Pound Cake / Paris Morton Music 2

[Part I: Pound Cake] [Intro: Jimmy Smith] Good God Almighty—like back in the old days You know, years ago they had the A&R men to tell you what to play, how to play it and you know, whether it's disco and rock But, uh, we just went in the studio and we did it We had the champagne in the studio, of course You know, compliments of the company And we just laid back and did it So we hope you enjoy listening to this album half as much as we enjoyed playing it for you Because we had a ball Only real music is gonna last All that other bullshit is here today and gone tomorrow [Chorus: Timbaland] Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all) Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M Get the-get the-get the-get the-get the Get the-get the-get the-get the mon-mon-money Frikki-frikki-frikki, dollar-dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all) [Verse 1: Drake] Yeah Uh, after hours at Il Mulino Or Sotto Sotto, just talkin' women and vino The contract like '91 Dan Marino I swear this guy Michael Rapino's boosting my ego Overly focused, it's far from the time to rest now Debates growin' 'bout who they think is the best now Took a while, got the jokers out of the deck now I'm holdin' all the cards and niggas wanna play chess now I hear you talking, say it twice so I know you meant it Fuck it, I don't even tint it, they should know who's in it I'm authentic, real name, no gimmicks No game, no scrimmage, I ain't playin' with you niggas at all My classmates, they went on to be chartered accountants Or work with their parents But thinkin' back on how they treated me My high school reunion might be worth an appearance Make everybody have to go through security clearance Tables turn, bridges burn, you live and learn With the ink I could murder, word to my nigga Irv Yeah, I swear shit just started clickin', dog You know it's real when you are who you think you are [Chorus: Timbaland] Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all) Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M Get the-get the-get the-get the-get the Get the-get the-get the-get the mon-mon-money Frikki-frikki-frikki, dollar-dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all) [Verse 2: JAY-Z] Uh, I had Benzes 'fore you had braces The all-black Maybach, but I'm not a racist Inside's whiter than Katy Perry's face is Yellow diamonds in my Jesús I just might learn to speak Mandarin Japanese for the yen that I'm handlin' International Hov, that's my handle My saint's Changó, light a candle El Gran Santo on the mantle Case y'all didn't know, I speak Spanish too, uh Shout out to World Wide Wes Everywhere we go, we leave a worldwide mess Yes, still Roc La Familia Says a lot about you if you not feeling us The homie said, "Hov, it ain't many of us" I told 'em, "Less is more, nigga, it's plenty of us" [Chorus: Timbaland] Cash rules everything around me, frikki-frikki-frik C.R.E.A.M.; get the-get the-get the-get the Get the-get the-get the-get the money, dollar-dollar D-d-d-d-dollar-dollar, dollar-dollar bill, y'all (Y'all, y'all) [Verse 3: JAY-Z] Cake, cake-cake, cake-cake, cake Five hundred million, I got a pound cake Niggas is frontin', that's upside-down cake Get 'em a red nose, they clown cakes They shoulda never let you 'round cake Look at my neck, I got a karat cake, uh Now here's the icin' on the cake Cake, cake-cake, cake-cake, uh I'm just gettin' started, oh yeah, we got it, bitch I've done made more millionaires than the lotto did Dame made millions, Biggs made millions Ye made millions, Just made millions Lyor made millions, Cam made millions Beans'a tell you if he wasn't in his feelings Uh, I'm back in my bag My eyes bloodshot, but my jet don't lag A pair of Jordan 3's, tryna chase this cash Gucci airbag just in case we crash Uh, last night was mad trill I'm fresh out of Advil—Jesus, grab the wheel [Part II: Paris Morton Music 2] [Verse: Drake] Yeah, uh Look, fuck all that "Happy to be here" shit that y'all want me on I'm the big homie, they still be tryna lil bro me, dog Like I should fall in line Like I should alert niggas when I'm 'bout to drop somethin' crazy And not say I'm the greatest of my generation Like I should be dressing different Like I should be less aggressive and pessimistic Like I should be way more nervous and less dismissive Like I should be on my best behavior and not talk my shit And do it major like the niggas who paved the way for us Like I didn't study the game to the letter And understand that I'm not doin' it the same Man, I'm doing it better Like I didn't make that clearer this year Like I should feel, I don't know, guilty for saying that They should put a couple more mirrors in here so I can stare at myself These are usually just some thoughts that I would share with myself But I thought "Fuck it", it's worth it to share 'em With someone else other than Paris for once I text her from time to time, she a mom now I guess sometimes life forces us to calm down I told her she could live with me if she need to, I got a compound But I think she's straight 'Cause she supported since Hot Beats Right before Wayne came and got me out of the back room Where I was rapping with Jas over beats that I shouldn't have In the hopes for the glory He walked right past in the hallway Three months later, I'm his artist He probably wouldn't remember that story But that shit stick with me always Couldn't believe when he called me You never know what could happen to you And I just spent four Ferraris all on a brand new Bugatti And did that shit 'cause it's somethin' to do Yeah, I guess that's just who I became, dawg Nothing was the same, dawg