DRAKE – Skepta Interlude lyrics

It’s a madness!
Check my account, it’s a madness (Mmm)
Block that account, it’s a catfish (Yeah)
Block that account, it’s a catfish (Dubplate special)
Check my account, that’s a madness
Check my account, that’s a madness (OVO, BBK)
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

You don’t know me, you better get to know me
Stand up tall, right next to Kobe
A young G, I had the weapon on me
Slice up work like pepperoni
The police still arrest the homies
No statement, no testimony
Spit in your face with extra bogey
It’s my time, I don’t flex a Rollie
On cloud 9, a man’s extra cosy
I might switch it up and direct a movie
Pussyholes tried to execute me
Died and came back as Fela Kuti
Don’t phone me, send a text to Julie
OVO, man’s so unruly
South by, ride out, no Suzuki
Got the Austin Powers, a man’s extra groovy
Front row, jacket tailor-made
Crackhead swag with the razor blade
Red umbrella when I make it rain
My whole team winning, we don’t play your game
Sound like me but they ain’t the same
See them online tryna fake the fame
They wanna bust jokes, they think I’m Damon Wayans

It’s a madness
Check my account, it’s a madness (More Life)
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Block that account, it’s a catfish (OVO, BBK)
Check my account, that’s a madness (dubplate)
Check my account, that’s a madness (street team)
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

They’re nothing like me, I’m a fucking villain
Go against me, that’s a tough decision
Police wish I was stuck in prison
Fish eye lens on my tunnel vision
Real life greaze when I touch the riddim
Still the same guy when I touched a million
Record labels wanted us to listen
But it’s greatness only for the love of Britain
I say it how it is and no fucks are given
So don’t forget to remember me
Especially all my enemies
Keep your eyes on me with your jealousy
The most solid gang that you will ever see
Just came back from the embassy
Check my crime sheet, check my legacy
And now I’m back on tour, so what you telling me?
Taliban, Halloween
Pull up in the whip with the gasoline
Yeah, that’s that boy from the magazine
Bust my dance at the cash machine
Make her back it up, bounce on my trampoline
Like Martin Luther, man, I had a dream
Now it’s my world, you can have the scene

It’s a madness
Check my account, it’s a madness
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Block that account, it’s a catfish
Check my account, that’s a madness
Check my account, that’s a madness
Block that account, that’s a catfish
Block that account, that’s a catfish

Audio Push – Wicked (My Turn 3 Album)

[Verse 1: Oktane]
It’s on, left me here on my own
So I guess I’m back in my zone
Gotta put on there for my home
No contact if you doubt it, too many contacts in my phone
Rap circles around your favorite rappers off the top of my dome
New flows, new flows I need Pesos
Two shows back-to-back, then studio
So no time for no moody hoes
That shit lame, still the same
Damon Wayans, Major Payne
On the game, roll a [plane?] and then smoke the whole thang, whoa

[Verse 2: Price]
Hmm, look at what we got here
High as fuck in the Uber [?], need to tell you how I got here
You think my gloves got [Paris?] powder, I’m beatin’ em it’s not fair
Fuck her face ’till she cryin’, call that shit top tears
She only fuck with top-tier and that’s probably why you not here
The fake shit stops here
The homies said whenever it’s time to hop in the ride
And slide you got scared
So miss me with all them Internet threats
Don’t talk to me if you ain’t been in a jet
And I hate your nerds more than a cigarette breath
Can be lost with the loud talk
Ain’t no money in her [route?], brah
H-A, yeah times 2, pointin’ at you like "ha ha"
Bank account going gaga
A nigga still eat Popeye’s
Overdose on peroxide if I ain’t in your fucking top five
Call me daddy when we in the streets
But in the sheets, baby, call me Price
Whoopy-whoop, bleepty-bleep means if I don’t answer, don’t call me twice
Refuse to gain the world and lose my soul for all the hype
I’m Bob Marley, like
Get in tune with the Gotti [?]
And that’s on my life, we gon’ all be right
Wicked, wicked, wicked, wicked
Like a check stub, I gotta rip it
Connected like a studio equipment
Used to make plays off the cricket
Now they make way for my entrance
Got a V8 in the engine
You at home V8-sippin’
Talk ’bout healthy livin’ shit
I need 2 millions for starters
Yours, not a real artist
I’m finna go nuts, George Washington Carver
Got the logo on the bomber, rock this shit like armor
No words for your honor, R.I.P. Eric Garner, yeah
Wrist, wicked
Clique, wicked
My city, wicked
[?], wicked
I’m vibin’, wicked
So icy, wicked
That’s wifey, wicked
Don’t like me, wicked

[Outro: Oktane]
I was gon’ rap again but like, this nigga just killed that shit
So like, next one