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First Person Shooter by .Drake and J. Cole | Lyrics | The Lyrics Loft | Free Top Song Lyrics

First Person Shooter by Drake and J. Cole.
(Lyrics )

                                                                  Artists      :  Drake and J. Cole 
                                                                  Album      :   For all the Dogs
                                                                  Lyrics       :   Drake and Cole                    
                                                                  Released  :    2023



First-person shooter mode, we turnin' your song to a funeral

To them niggas that say they wan' off us, you better be talkin' 'bout workin' in cubicles

Yeah, them boys had it locked, but I knew the code

Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral

Not the three, not the two, I'm the U-N-O

Yeah

Numero U-N-O

Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl

Man, this shit damn near big as the-



Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?

Big as the Super Bowl

But the difference is it's just two guys playin' shit that they did in the studio

Niggas usually send they verses back to me, and they be terrible, just like a two-year-old

I love a dinner with some fine women when they start debatin' about who the G.O.A.T

I'm like go on 'head, say it then, who the G.O.A.T.?

Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.?


Who you bitches really rootin' for?

Like a kid that act bad from January to November, nigga, it's just you and Cole

Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what? (Ayy)

Big as the Super Bowl


Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef

Dissectin' my words and start lookin' too deep

I look at the tweets and start suckin' my teeth

I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystique

I still wanna get me a song with YB

Can't trust everything that you saw on IG

Just know if I diss you, I'd make sure you know that I hit you like I'm on your caller ID


I'm namin' the album The Fall Off, it's pretty ironic 'cause it ain't no fall off for me

Still in this bitch gettin' bigger, they waitin' on the kid to come drop like a father to be

Love when they argue the hardest MC

Is it K-Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me?

We the big three like we started a league, but right now, I feel like Muhammad Ali

Huh, yeah, yeah, huh-huh, yeah, Muhammad Ali


The one that they call when they shit ain't connectin' no more, feel like I got a job in IT

Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake

The Spider-Man meme is me lookin' at Drake

It's like we recruited your homies to be demon deacons, we got 'em attending your wake

Hate how the game got away from the bars, man, this shit like a prison escape

Everybody steppers, well, fuck it, then everybody breakfast

And I'm 'bout to clear up my plate (huh, huh, huh)



When I show up, it's motion picture blockbuster

The G.O.A.T. with the golden pen, the top toucher

The spot rusher, sprayed his whole shit up, the crop duster

Not Russia, but apply pressure

To your cranium, Cole's automatic when aimin' 'em

With The Boy in the status, a stadium

Nigga


Ayy, I'm 'bout to, I'm 'bout to

I'm 'bout to, yeah

Yeah


I'm 'bout to click out on this shit

I'm 'bout to click, whoa

I'm 'bout to click out on this shit

I'm 'bout to click, whoa

I'm down to click down you hoes and make a crime scene

I click the trigger on the stick like a high beam

Man, I was Bentley wheel whippin' when I was 19

She call my number, leave her hangin', she got dry-cleaned


She got a Android, her messages is lime green

I search one name, and end up seein' 20 tings

Nadine, Christine, Justine, Kathleen, Charlene, Pauline, Claudine

Man, I pack 'em in this phone like some sardines

And they send me naked pictures, it's the small things

You niggas still takin' pictures on a Gulfstream

My youngins richer than you rappers and they all stream

I really hate that you been sellin' them some false dreams


Man, if your pub was up for sale, I buy the whole thing

Will they ever give me flowers? Well, of course not

They don't wanna have that talk, 'cause it's a sore spot

They know The Boy, the one they gotta boycott

I told Jimmy Jam I use a GRAMMY as a door stop

Girl gave me some head because I need it

And if I fuck with you, then after I might eat it, what?

Niggas talkin' 'bout when this gon' be repeated

What the fuck, bro? I'm one away from Michael

Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?


Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?

Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?

Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, ayy, beat it, what?

Don't even pay me back on none them favors, I don't need it



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