Read the lyrics First Person Shooter Lyrics – Drake & J. Cole. Is Its Classy Lyrics Are Written by Drake & J. Cole. Is Its Official Music Video Has been Released On October 6, 2023. And Present On The YouTube Channel.
The lyric kicks off with a flare of sensible things burlesquing a originalperson shot meet, sitting an acute fashion.J.Cole and Adonis grip in a active truck, with Cole substantiating a competitive air, rotating likes’ lyrics into burials. He challenges those claiming they want off the scene, suggesting they better mean leaving mundane jobs, not challenging his rap supremacy.
[Verse 1: Drake]
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 playing 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 debating 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 rooting 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
Explanation of Verse 1
He contrasts their collective course with different artists who repeatedly save lackluster lyrics. Drake emphasizes the singular chemistry he shares with Cole, related to a Super Bowl event.
[Verse 2: J. Cole]
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissecting my words and start looking too deep
I look at the tweets and start sucking my teeth
I’m letting 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 naming the album The Fall Off, it’s pretty ironic ’cause it ain’t no fall off for me
Still in this bitch getting bigger, they waiting 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 connecting no more, feel like I got a job in IT
Rhyming with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme is me looking 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 aiming ’em
With The Boy in the status, a stadium
Nigga
Explanation of Verse 2
Cole responds to criticizers, axing bitch and featuring his attachment for closed book. He reflects on the diligence’s drive for dramatics and expresses his thirst for cooperation, implying at a workable lyric with” YB.” The name of his coming collectanea,” The slip Off,” is clarified as ironic, counting his continual ascent. He boasts about breathing cut of the rap triple( the” major three”) and likens himself to Muhammad Ali in tours of bump.
Cole talks accounts about the Sunday rapper, titling Kendrick Lamar and Drake, avouching their threesome’s ascendance . He takes a discharge at the assiduity’s move off from musical content and likens the going rap locale to a captivity escape, giving his decision to bring around ago making.
[Part II]
[Intro: Drake]
Ayy, I’m ’bout to, I’m bout to
I’m ’bout to, yeah
Yeah!
Explanation of Outro:
Drake sets the fashion with an flush” contest to” affirmation, gearing up for what seems to breathe an self-asserting and secure voice. The preamble creates contemplation for what is to advance, as the artist prepares to participate his accounts and times.
[Verse: Drake]
I’m ’bout to click out on this shit
I’m ’bout to click, woah
I’m ’bout to click out on this shit
I’m ’bout to click, woah
I’m down to click out you hoes and make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick like a high beam
Man, I was Bentley wheel whipping when I was nineteen
She call my number, leave her hanging, she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android, her messages is lime green
I search one name, and end up seeing twenty 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 taking pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer than you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been selling 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 talking ’bout when this gone be repeated
What the fuck, bro? I’m one away from Michael
Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?
Explanation of Verse 1
Drake dives into a lyric tagged by character- face and a daring actions. He talks about breathing go to break up himself from unidentified beings and deals, using the idiom” relate out” to accentuate his disinterest. The acknowledgment of framing a” criminality setting” with a alarm on a fritter adds a grade of aggressiveness, indicating a agonistic or ambitious poise. Drake reminisces about his primal hit, flashing back his times at nineteen, herding a Bentley. He humorously sources ducking inquiries from someone, deserting them” slinging” like thirsty- drew clothes. The lyric takes a larky amble with a dip to technology, drawing brushes with beings whose communications come out in disparate lime flora on Android phones. The rapper again shifts to a graphic definition of his chock-full connection list, clacking off titles like Nadine, Christine, Justine, and others. He humorously likens them to sardines, playing up the feast of joins. The commendation of taking definitive pics highlights the everyday clay ofdesigner connections, attaining engrossment with the idiom” it’s the off gear.” Drake contrasts his society with others in the sedulity, laying down the monetary hit of his” youngins” who better rival rappers. He expresses exasperation with artists putting up false conceits, averring his readiness to pick up out their publishing birthrights. The commendation of a GRAMMY existing utilized as a doorstop hints at the artist’s uncurious poise towards citations.
[Outro: Drake]
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, what?
Don’t even pay me back on none them favors, I don’t need it
Explanation of Outro:
The outro reinforces the content of disinterest and aplomb, as Drake repeats the idiom” conquer it, what?” It serves as a froward and dismissive consequence, italicizing the artist’s clay- cheered bearing.
[Conclusion]
The lyric concludes with a heavy and cinematic imagery Cole is drew as a hit shift icon , theG.O.A.T. with a bright pen. He applies tension with instinctive accuracy, showcasing his prowess in the rap event. The lyrics all told depict a likeness of two artists at the cap of their contest, steering the diligence’s complaints while laying down their supremacy.Top of Form