DRAKE – FAMILY MATTERS (KENDRICK LAMAR DISS)

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DRAKE – FAMILY MATTERS (KENDRICK LAMAR DISS) Lyrics

[Part I] [Intro: Drake & Sandra Graham]Maybe in this song, you shouldn’t start by saying
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I’ve emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned my seed, now deal with his dad
I gotta go bad, I gotta go bad

[Chorus]Mmm, mmm, yeah
Drop, drop, drop, drop
Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot
Drop a fifty bag, twenty-nine for the thot
Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it PG
I was really, really tryna keep it PG

[Verse]If you had a set, they’d give your ass a DP
But you civilian gang, in real life, you PC
You know who really bang a set? My nigga YG
You know who really bang a set? My nigga Chuck T
You know who even bang a set out there is CB
And, nigga, Cole losin’ sleep on this, it ain’t me
You better have some paperwork or that shit fakе tea
Can’t be rappin’ ’bout no rattin’ that we can’t rеad
I mean it’s true a nigga slimed me for my AP
Just like how Metro nigga slimed him for his main squeeze
Out here beggin’ for attention, nigga, say please
Always rappin’ like you ’bout to get the slaves freed
You just actin’ like an activist, it’s make-believe
Don’t even go back to your hood and plant no money trees
Say you hate the girls I fuck, but what you really mean?
I been with Black and white and everything that’s in between
You the Black messiah wifin’ up a mixed queen
And hit vanilla cream to help out with your self-esteem
On some Bobby shit, I wanna know what Whitney need
All that puppy love was over in y’all late teens
Why you never hold your son and tell him, “Say cheese?”
We could’ve left the kids out of this, don’t blame me
You a dog and you know it, you just play sweet
Your baby mama captions always screamin’, “Save me”
You did her dirty all your life, you tryna make peace
I heard that one of ’em little kids might be Dave Free
Don’t make it Dave Free’s
‘Cause if your GM is your BM secret BD
Then this is all makin’ plenty fuckin’ sense to me
Ayy, let that shorty breathe
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees
Hands on your knees, hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake, now shake that ass for free
Yeah, yeah
Well, not that kind of free, I’m talkin’ ’bout my nigga Dave
Your man a lil’ K, we call that shit a mini Drac’
He always said I overlooked him, I was starin’ straight
These bars go over Kenny head no matter what I say
I know you like to keep it short, so let me paraphrase
Knew it was smoke when Abel hit us with the serenade
Nigga said, “Uh, uh”
Almost started reachin’ for my waist

[Chorus]Drop, drop, drop, drop
Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot
Drop a fifty bag, twenty-nine for the thot
Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it—

[Part II] [Intro]Yeah
Let me stop playin’ around, let me take this shit serious, like
Niggas is a joke, I take it serious, though
Yeah, look

[Verse]If Drake shooters doing TikToks, nigga
Realest shooter in your gang, that’s P’s brother, y’all ain’t getting shit shot, nigga
Can’t listen to the stick talk in falsetto, save it for a hip-hop nigga
You don’t even be at home, dog, you a souvenir-out-the-gift-shop nigga
Still mad about that one ho, we ain’t even fuck, I just lip-locked with her
I get active when it’s war time, I ain’t even really let my dick drop, nigga
What the fuck I heard Rick drop, nigga? Talkin’ somethin’ ’bout a nose job, nigga
Ozempic got a side effect of jealousy and doctor never told y’all niggas
Put a nigga in the bars, let a nigga rot, kind of like your old job, nigga
House sittin’ on some land, but it’s out where no one even really know y’all niggas
Bitches gotta drive two hours ‘fore you pay ’em just to give a blowjob, nigga
Must’ve snorted up a snowball
‘Cause my last record deal was four hundred M’s, these days, that’s a low ball, nigga
Ayy
Who’s next on the list?
Which one of my so-called niggas
Which one of my so-called niggas
Which one of my so-called niggas need a shell from the clip?
Always knew I had to smoke y’all niggas
���good kid, m.A.A.d city van, we’ll pop the latch and let the door slide
Tears runnin’ down my cheek, laughin’ at you pussies dyin’, it’s a war cry
Weeknd music gettin’ played in all the spots where boys got a little more pride
That’s why all your friends dippin’ to Atlanta, payin’ just to find a tour guide
Abel, run your fuckin’ bread, need to buy some more chains for some more guys
Let me find another street nigga I can take to the game courtside
Let me get a used Ferrari for a rapper, take the nigga on a horse ride
Anything to take the spotlight off the fact the boss is a drugged-out lil’ punk sissy from the Northside
Rakim talkin’ shit again
Gassed ’cause you hit my BM first, nigga, do the math, who I was hittin’ then?
I ain’t even know you rapped still ’cause they only talkin’ ’bout your ‘fit again
Probably gotta have a kid again ‘fore you think of droppin’ any shit again
Even when you do drop, they gon’ say you should’ve modeled ’cause it’s mid again
Smokin’ Fenty ’bout it, should’ve put you on the first one, tryna get it in
Ask Fring if this a good idea the next time you cuddled in that bed again
She’ll even tell you leave the boy alone ‘fore you get your head split again
Pluto shit make me sick to my stomach, we ain’t never really been through it
Leland Wayne, he a fuckin’ lame, so I know he had to be an influence
These niggas had a plan and they finally found a way to rope you into it
Two separate albums dissin’, I just did a Kim to it, nigga, skim through it
Me and Savage had the hoes drippin’ wet at shows, almost had to swim to it
K-Dot shit is only hittin’ hard when Baby Keem put his pen to it
Ross callin’ me the white boy and the shit kind of got a ring to it
‘Cause all these rappers wavin’ white flags while the whole fuckin’ club sing to it
Murder scene on your man tonight, then come to the vigil with the candlelight
Body after fuckin’ body and you know Rick readin’ my Miranda rights
I’m goin’ on vacation now, hope next time y’all plan it right
‘Cause you gotta pay for sayin’ my name, guess now niggas understand the price
Nigga, what? (6ix)
[Part III] [Verse]Ayy
Kendrick just opened his mouth, someone go hand him a Grammy right now
Where is your uncle at? ‘Cause I wanna talk to the man of the house
West Coast niggas do fades, right? Come get this ass whoopin’, I’m handin’ ’em out
You wanna take up for Pharrell? Then come get his legacy out of my house
A cease and desist is for hoes, can’t listen to lies that come out of your mouth
You called the Tupac estate and begged ’em to sue me and get that shit down
I’m losin’ perspective on beef, Boi-1da send beat and I’ll kill you for fun
Your daddy got robbed by Top, you Stunna and Wayne, like father, like son
Anthony set up the plays, Kojo be chargin’ you double for nothin’
They shook about what I’ma say, but textin’ your phone like, “We already won”
You tell me what I shouldn’t say, but fuck it, my nigga, it’s already done
We already know it’s a twenty-v-one, we already know why you went number one
It’s clearly because of The Boy, the honorable thing is to give me the loot
You right about “Fuck the big three,” it’s only Big D, and there’s video proof
Our sons should go play at the park, two lightskin kids, that shit would be cute
Unless you don’t want to be seen with anyone that isn’t Blacker than you
We get it, we got it
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
We get that you like to put gin in your juice
We get that you think that you Bishop in Juice
When you put your hands on your girl, is it self-defense ’cause she bigger than you?
Your back is up against the curb, you diggin’ for dirt, should be diggin’ for proof
Why did you move to New York? Is it ’cause you livin’ that bachelor life?
Proposed in 2015, but don’t wanna make her your actual wife
I’m guessin’ this wedding ain’t happenin’, right?
‘Cause we know the girls that you actually like
Your darkest secrets are comin’ to light
It’s all on your face like what happened to Mike
Oh shit, it’s all makin’ sense, maybe I’m Prince and you actually Mike
Michael was prayin’ his features would change so people believe that he’s actually white
Top would make you do features for change, get on pop records and rap for the whites
And wait, you say your brother Jermaine, but you wanted him to stay out of the light
Oh shit, just follow me, right? ‘Cause nothin’ you sayin’ could bother me, right?
I get off the plane and nothing has changed, I head to Delilah with all of my ice
Head to Delilah with all of my ice, head to Delilah with all of my ice
This shit gotta be over by now for anyone out here that’s calling it, right?
You’re dead
You’re dead, you’re dead
There’s nowhere to hide, there’s nowhere to hide, you know what I mean
They hired a crisis management team to clean up the fact that you beat on your queen
The picture you painted ain’t what it seem, you’re dead