Drake - Mob Ties lyrics

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Drake - Mob Ties lyrics

[Verse 1: Drake] Ayy, sick of these n***as (sick) Sick of these n***as (sick, sick) Hire some help (help), get rid of these n***as (skrr) Sick of this sh**, move to the Ritz Turned out the b**h (ayy) It is what it is, yeah GLE, 'cause that Lambo movin' fast S Cla**, G Cla**, lotta cla** In a rocket and that b**h ain't got no tags Louis bags in exchange for body bags, yeah [Pre-Chorus 1: Drake] Sick of these n***as (sick) Sick of these n***as (sick, sick) Hire some help (help), get rid of these n***as (grr) f** what it was, it is what it is Whatever you did, it is what it is [Chorus: Drake] And I'm so tired (tired) I f** with the mob and I got ties (got the ties, got the ties) Knock you off to pay their tithes (oh) They want me gone but don't know why It's too late for all that lovey-dovey sh** I'm your brother sh**, all that other sh** It's too late for all that It's too late for all that, ayy It's too late for all that lovey-dovey sh** I'm your brother sh**, all that other sh** It's too late for all that, ayy It's too late for all that [Post-Chorus: Drake] Ayy, sick of these n***as Sick of these n***as Hire some help, get rid of these n***as I'm not with the ra-ra I am a Dada My b**h in Chanel now Your b**h in Escada (sick, sick, sick) [Verse 2: Drake] Yeah, and they shook Please don't let them fool ya, I don't care how they look (nah) Heard all of the talkin', now it's quiet, now it's shush (shh) Twenty-nine is comin', they on edge when I cook (cook) Lead the league in scorin', man, but look at my a**ists (shh) Yes I be with Future but I like to reminisce (yeah) I do not forget a thing, I'm patient, it's a gift (yeah) Try to tell 'em they ain't got to do it, they insist (they insist) Yeah, I can tell I just gave 'em two for forty million like Chappelle (two) Standin' over coffin with a hammer and a nail (two) Heard you hit up so and so, that name don't ring a bell (nah) [Pre-Chorus 2: Drake] Sick of these n***as (sick) Hire some help, get rid of these n***as I'm sick of this sh** (sick, sick) I'm runnin' a blitz Whatever you did, it is what it is [Chorus: Drake] And I'm so tired (tired) I f** with the mob and I got ties (lotta ties, lotta ties) Knock you off to pay their tithes They want me gone but don't know why It's too late for all that lovey-dovey sh** I'm your brother sh**, all that other sh** It's too late for all that It's too late for all that, ayy It's too late for all that lovey-dovey sh** I'm your brother sh**, all that other sh** It's too late for all that, ayy It's too late for all that