8AM In Charlotte

Album: For All the Dogs (2023)
Charted: 17
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  • In God's hands (Conductor)
    Be grateful
    That He was there
    Glory (yeah)
    I'm out here on the road
    You can hear it in the voice (glory)
    Still get this shit off, though
    Look

    The money speakin' for itself, I call it fortune-tell
    Fire top from a bitch that work in corporate sales
    Chinchilla ushanka, we skiin' out in Courchevel
    Breakin' news, they tried to kill him, but the boy prevails
    I leave for tour and my niggas fuckin' go to jail
    Preachin' to the dogs 'bout wantin' more for themselves
    It's weighin' heavy on my moral scale
    Knowin' they gon' sell another citizen 'cane, they think they Orson Welles
    Walk in Chanel, they like, "How the fuck you need more Chanel?"
    I got these cats tuckin' tails on fourth-quarter sales
    I'm used to seein' tears drop over enormous meals
    The restaurant clears out, faint echoes of Lauryn Hill
    I say, "We gotta talk about us," I feel like Jordan Peele
    Could tell I'm gettin' under your skin like a orange peel
    'Cause your words don't match your actions like a foreign film
    And now it's silence in the Lamb' like the horror film
    Things get quiet after me statin' the obvious
    Things get kinky after fifteen years of dominance
    That October sky is lookin' ominous
    The money is autonomous
    Shout to Oliver North, he out in Rome doin' Toronto shit
    And Jeremiah the watchdog, you niggas know what time it is
    I'm in and out of Houston Hobby so much, I'm a hobbyist
    Hoes waitin' on Cench in the lobby, that boy a lobbyist
    Savage got a green card straight out of the consulate
    Where I go, you go, brother, we Yugoslavian
    Formal is the dress code, dawg, so many checks owed
    I feel Czechoslovakian, nigga, what the fuck?

    Nah, I'm movin' different right now, for real, like
    I feel like if Mike switched out the glove for the pen, like
    This shit just too enticing right now, you know?
    Look

    Diamonds do the silly dance, I raise up the wine glass
    Metal detectors beepin', and security bypass
    The numbers goin' up, someone pull up the line graph
    The days are goin' by, it's like I'm livin' in time lapse
    Been talkin' to Adel like he majored in finance
    Shania Twain, notepad, I'm makin' it line-dance
    You tryna rob me and it's gon' feel like you sittin' at your favorite restaurant
    'Cause, nigga, that's where you dyin' at
    Mob ties, I swear we like a bitch with fine sisters and fine cousins, the family all bad
    I'm preachin' to the dawgs about cleanin' they images
    I swear I'm like a young T.D. Jakes to my menaces
    Long-kiss goodnight, PDA for my nemesis
    Three hunnid acres, PGA on the premises
    That's what's really brackin' like this verse in parenthesis
    I'm givin' hits to niggas on some, don't even mention it

    Like, don't even worry about it, like
    Just get me back whenever, or
    Or don't, you know?
    It is what it is, I guess
    Yeah, hm
    Look

    You young boys take some of that money and set it aside
    Not having enough to pay your tax is a federal crime
    You niggas obsessed with me and it's not on no hetero vibe
    Handle beef so quiet, you think that I'm lettin' it slide
    Next thing you know, we tip-toeing past enemy lines
    Diss me so long ago, we makin' your memories fly
    Conspiracy theories start floatin' around like the Kennedy guy
    I'll prolly hold a grudge against you guys 'til I'm seventy-five
    Ayy, niggas lyin' for a living, I couldn't relate
    We all gotta lay in the bed we make, but that couldn't be Drake
    You forced a lot of fake love when real ones stood in your face
    That's why you got deserted by your niggas, like pudding and cake
    I got you on camera bowing down, but the footage is safe
    Thank God, another USB to put in the safe
    Thank God, at the crib, dippin' my foot in the lake
    I swear that y'all turned me into the villain, I couldn't escape
    Not sayin' that I'm the best at what I do
    I'm just sayin' that it's me versus whoever wanna lose
    Pick anyone of the "who's who's", I got .22s for new crews
    R.I.P. to the DJ from Houston, we loose screws
    Helicopters, cop lights, and news crews
    Niggas steady cryin' to my daddy, well, boo-hoo
    You probably heard a lot about the boy, well, true, true, haha

    (In God's Hands) Yeah
    (Be grateful)
    (That He was there) Writer/s: Aubrey Drake Graham, Denzel Dewayne Williams, Jason Howard Wool, Mario Luciano
    Publisher: CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind

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