Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lemon Pepper Freestyle, artist - Drake. Album song Scary Hours 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.03.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: OvO
Song language: English
Lemon Pepper Freestyle |
Tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
I pray these niggas understand how passionate the tale is |
To get you under my pressure |
Richer |
I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
To get you under my pressure |
Yes, uh |
Biggest, you feel me? |
(M-M-M-Maybach Music) |
Godfather with a garden full of snakes |
Call Porsche, time to give away a Wraith |
Bricks boy, tryna turn 'em into bass |
Big boy, I been tryin' by the Braves |
Court room soundin' like I'm in the opera |
Went and got it, now these niggas wanna knock us |
Bitches fallin' 'cause they need a couple dollars |
But it ain't a problem 'cause a nigga really got it |
Fat boy, rich nigga, with a appetite |
Count monеy all night under the candlelight |
Spinnin' vinyl, Tеddy P, or is it Lionel? |
Not a model, but I know I been your idol |
Big bank, sparkin' weed without a lighter |
On fire 'cause I'm just a different writer |
Practicin' social distance with all these snitch niggas |
Guess he jealous 'cause I had his favorite bitch with us |
Big bucks, steppin' outta big trucks |
Steppin' on my feet, it'll get you fucked up |
Got the squad with me and all they did was gimme love |
Foot Locker, twenty deep, a nigga spend a dub |
G-Wagen for my bitch, that girl go live it up |
Death row, that's for these niggas, I'ma hit 'em up |
Makaveli, it's All Eyez on Me |
Pinkie rings, it's still M-O-B (M-M-M-Maybach Music) |
I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
To get you under my pressure |
I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
To get you under my pressure |
Tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
Yeah, heart just turned purple |
Three-sixty up front, it all comes full circle |
Class photographs, Sandy had me on my Urkel |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Patty Mahomes 'bout to fall short a couple hunnid |
Signed, sealed, delivered, I fucked the notary public |
She witnessed me sign off on some undeniable numbers |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Yeah, make a set sailin' Croatia to get a leverage |
Groundskeepers cuttin' the grass and clippin' the hedges |
I took two mill' out the cage down in the desert |
Matthew Maddox called in the pit boss, double checkin' |
"The number's all good, just pay me, I'm at the Rondo" |
Real life, the whole fam' goons like Ralo |
One truck in front of me, one behind me to follow |
Lemme get a lemon pepper order, please |
You gotta have the link before you order these |
Dockin' jet skis in the Florida Keys |
We all grateful for Weezy, but no one more than me |
You just found a bottle with the messages |
These days, fame is disconnected from excellence |
Half the time, I gotta ask niggas what they profession is |
Ushered a generation in, these is where my confessions live |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
I did brunch with the judge we appearin' before |
Private villas only, I don't go near a resort |
We want everything galore, not just Lira Galore |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
For real, and my city love me like DeMar DeRozan |
I sent her the child support, she sent me the heart emoji |
They all say they love me, but they hardly know me |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Yeah, dropped him off at school, big day for my lil' man |
Recess hits, daddy prolly made another M |
School bell rings and I'm out there to get him again |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Yeah, teacher-parent meetings, wives get googly-eyed |
Regardless of what they husbands do to provide |
Askin' if I know Beyoncé and Nicki Minaj |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Of course, pull up to the front in the fleet of Suburbans |
Flooded French Immersion with the Secret Service |
Shit is so obvious, it defeats the purpose |
If this is your hobby, then come and meet your maker |
Champagne, ring bells in the streets of Jamaica |
Started at the crib, look how far this shit'll take ya |
Ross sittin' on two hunnid thirty-five acres |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
And that's facts, Hamdah Mohammed like my third cousin (Facts) |
Manzoor Mohammed like my real brother (Facts) |
Dubai embrace me like a Emirati (Facts) |
All my Rolls Royces got a different body (Facts) |
Mansory, kitted out with every option (Facts) |
Lemme know if that's a problem (I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
If you got a problem with me, gotta walk around it |
Used to say I had 'fore I got it, now I got it all |
And bein' honest, I don't really wanna talk about it |
And if I didn't have it, wouldn't wanna sulk about it |
I had it so long, I don't even celebrate it |
Negative thoughts don't even enter my inner matrix |
'Magine me still rappin' 'bout if I never made it |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Damn, not too many parallels left in our lives |
I mean, my crib look bigger through my son's eyes |
And the squad look bigger to the young guys |
And my dick feel better when you drunk, right? |
Spend nighttime starin' at the sunrise |
And my diamonds all hittin' like tie-dye |
Air Canada Centre nigga when I die |
Y'all gon' have to fly in and do your fake cry |
First couple rows, you gon' see the real guys |
The ones that purchase they vehicles 'cause their trunk size |
The ones that look at other rappers like it's lunch time |
Watch on my wrist never showed me crunch time |
'Cause I ain't never let it come to that one time |
To be real, man, I never did one crime |
But none of my brothers could caption that line |
At all, kill me, that's talent God wasted |
Instant noodles, sriracha, I still taste it |
When mama was too tired to cook and we had the basics |
Instant noodles, sriracha, I still taste it |
Now it's a movie, I'm back at Bellag', wasted |
Niggas love tryna put my back where the walls facin' |
Big body frames, wasn't into car racin' |
Me and Chubbs drive by, shorty heart racin' |
I always end up droppin' the top when it starts rainin' |
Livin' in the 6, eight weeks, sun blazin' |
After that, the killers just go into hibernation |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Damn, rest in peace Dolla Bill |
How I get a girl and girls still wanna holla still? |
How I'm so famous, gotta live where they hide the hills? |
(I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin') |
Everybody that survive got survivor's guilt |
My label gotta prove they love me, gotta wire mills |
My boy kitchen's done, lookin' like a flour mill |
You niggas' faces lookin' like you drink sour milk |
And your albums like some mothafuckin' fire drills |
It's like this shit feels real, but it's never real (Yeah) |
I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
To get you under my pressure |
I been tryin', tryin', tryin', tryin' |
To get you under my pressure |