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Drake - Pop Style

Pop Style
Drake
03:33
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  • Drake
  • MP3 320Kbps
  • 8.13 Mb
  • 03:33

Song lyrics

[Chorus: Drake]
Dropped outta school now we dumb rich, dumb rich,
This sound like some forty-three-oh-one shit, one shit,
All my niggas wanna do is pop style, pop style,
Turn my birthday into a lifestyle, lifestyle.

[Verse 1: Drake]
Tell my mom I love her if I do not make it, do not make it,
Got so many chains they call me Chaining Tatum,
They do, they do.
And I like to finish what you think you started,
Man, you boys just got to Hollywood, you boys just started,
You don't know what you just started.
All I do is hang with the young and heartless,
All this is for my family, man, I try my hardest,
It's all I ever did and look where it got him.
Yeah, you've been on my mind lately,
You've still got my number, girl, you need to call me.
I feel like they wanna see me learn the hard way,
But you know I always handle that one my way,
Girl, let me rock, rock, rock, rock, rock your body,
Justin Timberlake, and then I hit the highway.
I can't trust no fuckin' body,
They still out to get me ‘cause they never got me.

[Verse 2: Kanye West & Jay Z]
They still out to get me, they don't get it,
I can not be got, and that's a given.
They like, “Pablo, why are all the windows tinted on your Tahoe?"
Why do you know every single bitch that I know?
Why can't you just shut your mouth and take the high road?
Fuck if I know, that's that Chicago, aye!
South, South, Side, that's the motto, aye!
Cop a crib and spend ten million on remodel,
Take the devils out my life and preach the gospel, ‘cause I know,
We went way, way past the line of scrimmage, aye!
Throne is back up in it, aye!
In the field like Emmitt, aye, y'all get so offended, aye!
I be blackin' out, I ain't backin' out,
Jay about his business, and I'ma let you finish but I,
I just, I just, I just, I just wanna rock your body,
Take you to the garage and do some karate,
Chop it, chop it, chop it, chop it, sippin' saké,
Throw a thick bitch on a Kawasaki.
Perfect!

[Verse 3: Drake]
They still out to get me, I don't get it,
I can not be got, and that's a given.
Give a real nigga the number one,
Even though I got like twenty-one,
Cannot beat me I'm a one-of-one,
Schoolin’ your ass like one-oh-one.
They been out here tryna slide on me,
They been out here telling lies on me,
Everybody lookin’ out for themself,
But they still got they eyes on me.
See me puttin’ in the hard work now, aye!
Momma doesn't have to call work now, aye!
I decide when I start work now, aye!
Problems hit the gym, they all work out.
MVP, MVP, oh-nine all the way to sixteen,
Even next season looking like a breeze,
Lot of y'all ain't built for the league, yeah!
Trade you off the team while you in your sleep, yeah!
Y'all showed me that nothing's guaranteed,
And you don't know what you started,
My friend's chain so big that he look like the artist.
I can't trust no fuckin' body,
They still out to get me ‘cause they never got me.

[Chorus: Drake]
Dropped outta school now we dumb rich, dumb rich,
This sound like some forty-three-oh-one shit, one shit,
All my niggas wanna do is pop style, pop style,
Turn my birthday into a lifestyle, lifestyle.

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