feelin' me... feelin' you.

I talk slicka than a pimp from Augusta,
who just had his linen suit dry-cleaned, bitches what's up with ya?
I hate callin' the women bitches, but the bitches love it
I took some sense and made a nickel of it.
I'm urgin' all daughters to kiss they mothers
with those lips that all that lipstick covers.
You're never too grown up to miss and hug her
and girls countin' on me to be there, like missin' rubbers.
I'm on some Marvin Gaye shit, a bunch of distant lovers.
This ain't the life that I'm used to, did you forget me?
Or are you too scared to tell me that you met me?
And fear that I won't remember, I wish you could still accept
me for me
I miss Memphis, Tennessee, my cousins, my dad,
the simplistic beauty that all of them Southerners have.
I'm half-way across the world with dozens of bags
feelin' like all four members of Color Me Badd. In one nigga,
amazing shit.
I got that Courtney Love for ya, that crazy shit.
I don't drink every bottle I own, I be aging shit.
And I got them wedding-ring flows, that engaging shit.
Which one of y'all got fleets for your key-chains?
Or seats for these Heat games?
I really think you stare at yourself and you see things.
La Familia, I've been inducted and instructed
to stunt on these niggas we don't really fuck with.
The fuck is up.
Havin' lunch and debatin' Ferrari prices
[33] and goin' through a mid-life crisis.
But trust me, I still deliver like a mid-wife.
And no, I'm not saying I'm the nicest, I just live life like it.
Yeah, it takes a certain type of man to teach
To be far from hood but to understand the streets
I never threw away that paper with my Grammy speech
Because I haven't hit the pinnacles I plan to reach.
You've got to own it if you want it,
kisses all on her body, she tells me "live in the moment."
Baby, I never forgot none of that.
Girl, I told you I was comin' back.

-Drake, "Aston Martin Music(Official Extended Mix)" - Rick Ross ft. Drake and Chrisette Michele