Drake, “Paris Morton Music (Lost Verse)” (Lyrics)

This is one of the five best verses Drake has ever recorded. It might be the best.

He’s talking fly ish (“Which one of y’all got fleets on your keychains? The seats for these Heat games?”), girl talk (“Kisses all on her body, she tells me live in the moment”), fame laments (“Havin’ lunch and debatin’ Ferrari prices / 23 and goin’ through a midlife crisis”) and the soul-searching stuff that makes him more compelling to this generation than nearly any other artist going. Also, it’s pretty well-rapped and sounds like the world’s smoothest therapy session thanks to the heavenly keys and gentle drums.

Drake’s not a great summer artist, and won’t be until he can follow the buoyancy of “Best I Ever Had” with something as joyous. (“Show Me A Good Time” comes close, in fairness.) But he’s mastered a style that’s equal parts autumnal and wintry, great for lonely nights and introspection because it sounds like it comes from those exact moments. And though holding down summer is great for selling singles, people buy albums all year.

Jump for lyrics.

Lyrics:

I talk slicker than a pimp from Augusta
Who just had his linen suit dry-cleaned, bitches, what’s up witcha?
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
Reintroduced to people I’ve been introduced 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 halfway 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 you, that crazy shit
I don’t drink every bottle I own, I be agin’ shit
And I got them wedding ring flows, that engagin’ shit
Which one of y’all got fleets on your keychains? The 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 wit
Fuck is up?
Havin’ lunch and debatin’ Ferrari prices
23 and goin’ through a midlife crisis
But trust me, I still deliver like a midwife
And no, I’m not sayin’ I’m the nicest, I just live life like it
Uh, it take 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
Yeah, you gotta own it if you want it
Kisses all on her body, she tells me live in the moment
And, baby, I’ll never forget none of that
Girl, I told you I was coming back