DRAKE, YONG THUG & 21 SAVAGE - IT'S UP LYRICS

I love all my friends

Thinkin' about this life I provide for them

This world has some real things dividin' 'em

My right hand, he's Muslim, I'll die for him

My road manager is drunk as hell at 5 p.m.

I get knocked down, they help me rise again

Ref won't leave the game, I'm sayin' "Bye" with him

Drake, turn this shit the fuck up

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I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout my opps)

I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout no opps)

I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout no opp)

Yeah, take a pic, (take a pic) Richard Millie, no stop watch (uh-uh)

Take a pic, with your lips gobblin' on my cock (let's go, uh-uh, shit)

I don't care 'bout no motherfuckin' watch (I don't care 'bout no watch, nah)

I don't care 'bout no highend thot (nah, nah)

Bitch, you just a (bitch, you just a) bystander

Christian Dior your pajama, Gucci vendor, got his number

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I just picked up somethin' from Mercedes, it's a one of one

Black exterior, the one that I want

Red inside like that time of the month

Blood money, that's how I got this

Blood money, that's how I got this

We can vacation wherever we want

'Cause I don't care where none of my opps is

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I told the promoter tonight, put me across from they section

We don't play patty cake, they just be lettin' us in, we don't do the inspection

I can't sleep at night with Thug at Cobb County Corrections

I think he did enough reflectin', I think my brother learned his lesson

It's all just a part of the game, we all gotta roll with protection

And just like the motherfuckin' judge, the hammers come out for objections

Nigga, what's up?

A hundred-and-forty-three Rolexes in my collection

I put the horns on the front of the back, you know Drizzy gon' roll like a Texan

She textin' she love me, the Mexicans love me

I'm out here just makin' connections

And Junior Boy rollin' like Cinco de Mayo, he may've had a fifth of possession

The way that I'm used to playin' the politics, swear I could win the election

You niggas is overprotective with hoes, I'm already over the next one

I'm at 48 with Ty and Vino, we drunk, it's not even a question

These niggas tryna send a message, well, leave that shit down in the reception, ayy

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I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout my opps)

I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout no opps)

I don't care 'bout my opps (I don't care 'bout no opp)

Yeah, take a pic, (take a pic) Richard Millie, no stop watch (uh-uh)

Take a pic, with your lips gobblin' on my cock (let's go, uh-uh, shit)

I don't care 'bout no motherfuckin' watch (I don't care 'bout no watch, nah)

I don't care 'bout no highend thot (nah, nah)

Bitch, you just a (bitch, you just a) bystander

Christian Dior your pajama, Gucci vendor, got his number

‍

I just picked up somethin' from Mercedes, it's a one of one

Black exterior, the one that I want

Red inside like that time of the month

Blood money, that's how I got this

Blood money, that's how I got this

We can vacation wherever we want

'Cause I don't care where none of my opps is

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You hang around too many niggas, that's pussy

You gotta be pussy

If it's on sight, up your gun on me

All that muggin' and lookin'

Yeah, niggas doin' all that woofin', pussy

4L bomb shit

Walk inside the store, that switch in my armpit

I go wherever, I keep a Beretta, and niggas ain't on shit

My opps together, but I don't discriminate, I got 'em both hit

Them niggas be lyin', they niggas be dyin' and they'll never post shit

No rap cap come out my mouth

Made a couple songs, think he hot now

Hit his ass up, he think he Pac now

Broad daylight he got shot down

Chopper bullets make his ass hop 'round

Bloodshed, ain't no way to stop now

Go on live and get your ass pop now

Seem like everybody want an opp now

Leavin' him flatline

Slaughter Gang knife in the back, I'm on that time

Turn him to a hashtag

Make him a "Long Live", niggas ain't my kind

Tried and true, I'ma pop mine

I was seventeen with a Glock .9

I wanna see red, stop sign

I wanna see red, Clifford

She keep tryna whip out my zipper

I move to L.A., I'm a Clipper

He think with his dick, he a tricker

Get your bitch out the car 'fore we blick her

We put an AirTag on his car, he in Miami by Brickell

Say "Hello" to the four nickel

I got a magazine, you got an issue

Givin' out smoke, pussy

My trigger finger broke

Don't try me like no hoe

I always let it blow

I pull up five score, nigga

We caught him by that store

How much you wanna bet they ass won't stand right there no more?

I'm Slaughter Gang OVO

A half a million a show

But I still walk in with that pole

Idiot

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Ayy, I'm feelin' like 2 Chainz (tru)

Bitch, I'm 21, bitch, I'm not 22

Knockin' off the namebrand niggas in your crew

Heard you miss your dogs, now it's long live who?

Idiot

Yeah

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