Drake – Major Distribution Lyrics

Major Distribution Lyrics – Drake

No, no, no, no, no, no
No, no, no, no, no

Major distribution, man, my label on my dick, for real
Fuckin’ with your friend and she ain’t tell you, y’all ain’t shit, for real
I’ve been out here crushin’ on success, now she my bitch, for real
You say I’m persuasive, girl, but you can’t spell that shit, for real

Hmm, hmm, in this mansion, I’ma call it cockin’
Paid in full, I’m a car five
Know your tired, we just did dinner for three hours
Lyin’ to me all night
Buyin’ Benz Benzes out of spite
Paid a hundred, ran up somethin’ light
Simple price to keep ’em out my life
Booby Trap, we need a business office
Magic City need a business office
Twenty-nine, I keep a business office
I’m in love with Houston, Dallas, Austin
Tell your guys to hold off on the team
Changed, seem like they may need money for coffins
Cuban girl, a fan of grindin’ coffee
Text me on the signal, don’t call me
Hmm, hmm, major distribution, labels call me
Bad Bunny numbers, it’s a robbery
Five-hundred million, just for Aubrey
Hmm, hmm, yeah, major distribution how I pop it
Mention me to be the hottest topic
Same place you singin’, bitch, you shoppin’

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay

Nigga tried to play this shit light, play it cool, play me like I’m sweet
Fuckin’ on an opp nigga bitch, say she miss the golds in my teeth
4L, know we steppin’, y’all should get the funeral prepared
SF90, this is not McLaren, make an IG model run my errands
He gon’ miss and we gon’ spin his parents, stayed in Houston long as Steve Francis
Shoot his feet, got him doin’ dances, wiggin’ niggas like I play they Kansas
Ever seen somebody get shot? Lot of shit I seen before the top
I ain’t tryna wrestle like The Rock, fuck the trish, I’d rather sip the wock
Lot of things I do to stay alive, everythin’ itself a colored car
Savage still let his gun pop, FOX 5 gang, get you knocked
Major distribution, labels callin’, Harry Styles numbers, it’s a robbery
My niggas go insane to catch a body, we was face to face, you could’ve shot to me

Okay, go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Okay, okay, go stupid, stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, go stupid
Go stupid, okay