Batalha entre Drake e Kendrick Lamar ganha novas diss tracks, “FAMILY MATTERS” e “meet the grahams”
Ouça as faixas com as letras na íntegra
– Batalha entre Drake e Kendrick Lamar ganha novas diss tracks, “FAMILY MATTERS” e “meet the grahams”
Como era de se esperar, a batalha entre os rappers agitou a internet, deixando os fãs, principalmente de hip hop, em frenesi. “Family Matters” (“Família Importa”) é a resposta de Drizzy para Kendrick e ainda com ataques para Future e Rick Ross.
Nas partes dedicas a atacar K.Dot, o canadense faz acusações sérias como agressões contra a sua esposa, Whitney. Além disso, Drake diz que o filho que ela tem com Kendrick seria fruto de um relacionamento com o guarda-costas do rapper, Dave Free,
Outro detalhe que chamou a atenção dos fãs foi a quantidade de vezes que o rapper usa a palavra “nigga”. Em “euphoria”, Kendrick Lamar entoa um verso questionando a birracialidade do canadense (“We don’t wanna hear you say “nigga” no more” / “Não queremos mais ouvir você dizendo ‘nigga'”).
Ouça “Family Matters“, com a letra completa, abaixo:
“Familly Matters”
Maybe in this song, you shouldn’t start by saying
Nigga, I said it, I know that you mad
I’ve emptied the clip over friendlier jabs
You mentioned my seed, now deal with his dad
I gotta go bad, I gotta go bad
Mmm, mmm, yeah
Drop, drop, drop, drop
Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot
Drop a fifty bag, twenty-nine for the thot
Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it PG
I was really, really tryna keep it PG
If you had a set, they’d give your ass a DP
But you civilian gang, in real life, you PC
You know who really bang a set? My nigga YG
You know who really bang a set? My nigga Chuck T
You know who even bang a set out there is CB
And, nigga, Cole losin’ sleep on this, it ain’t me
You better have some paperwork or that shit fakе tea
Can’t be rappin’ ‘bout no rattin’ that we can’t rеad
I mean it’s true a nigga slimed me for my AP
Just like how Metro nigga slimed him for his main squeeze
Out here beggin’ for attention, nigga, say please
Always rappin’ like you ‘bout to get the slaves freed
You just actin’ like an activist, it’s make-believe
Don’t even go back to your hood and plant no money trees
Say you hate the girls I fuck, but what you really mean?
I been with Black and white and everything that’s in between
You the Black messiah wifin’ up a mixed queen
And hit vanilla cream to help out with your self-esteem
On some Bobby shit, I wanna know what Whitney need
All that puppy love was over in y’all late teens
Why you never hold your son and tell him, “Say cheese?”
We could’ve left the kids out of this, don’t blame me
You a dog and you know it, you just play sweet
Your baby mama captions always screamin’, “Save me”
You did her dirty all her life, you tryna make peace
I heard that one of them little kids might be Dave Free
Don’t make it Dave Free’s
‘Cause if your GM is your BM secret BD
Then this is all makin’ plenty fuckin’ sense to me
Ayy, let that shorty breathe
Shake that ass, bitch, hands on your knees
Hands on your knees, hands on your knees
Shake that ass for Drake, now shake that ass for free
Yeah, yeah
Well not that kind of free, I’m talkin’ ‘bout my nigga Dave
Your man a lil’ K, we call that shit a mini Drac’
He always said I overlooked him, I was starin’ straight
These bars go over Kenny head no matter what I say
I know you like to keep it short, so let me paraphrase
Knew it was smoke when Abel hit us with the serenade
Nigga said, “Uh, uh”
Almost started reachin’ for my waist
Drop, drop, drop, drop
Drop a fifty bag for the mob in the spot
Drop a fifty bag, twenty-nine for the thot
Uh, I was really, really tryna keep it—
Yeah
Let me stop playin’ around,
Let me take this shit serious, like
Niggas is a joke, I take it serious, though
Yeah, look
If Drake shooters doing TikToks, nigga
Realest shooter in your gang, that’s P’s brother,
Y’all ain’t getting shit shot, nigga
Can’t listen to the stick talk in falsetto,
Save it for a hip-hop nigga
You don’t even be at home, dog,
You a souvenir-out-the-gift-shop nigga
Still mad about that one ho, we ain’t even fuck,
I just lip-locked with her
I get active when it’s war time,
I ain’t even really let my dick drop, nigga
What the fuck I heard Rick drop, nigga?
Talkin’ somethin’ ‘bout a nose job, nigga
Ozempic got a side effect of jealousy
And doctor never told y’all niggas
Put a nigga in the bars, let a nigga rot,
Kind of like your old job, nigga
House sittin’ on some land,
But it’s out where no one even really know y’all niggas
Bitches gotta drive two hours ‘fore you pay ‘em
Just to give a blowjob, nigga
Must’ve snorted up a snowball
‘Cause my last record deal was four hundred M’s,
These days, that’s a low ball, nigga
Ayy
Who’s next on the list?
Which one of my so-called niggas
Which one of my so-called niggas
Which one of my so-called niggas need a shell from the clip?
Always knew I had to smoke y’all niggas
Good kid, m.A.A.d city van,
We’ll pop the latch and let the door slide
Tears runnin’ down my cheek,
Laughin’ at you pussies dyin’, it’s a war cry
Weeknd music gettin’ played in all the spots
Where boys got a little more pride
That’s why all your friends dippin’ to Atlanta,
Payin’ just to find a tour guide
Abel, run your fucking bread,
Need to buy some more chains for some more guys
Let me find another street nigga
I can take to the game courtside
Let me get a used Ferrari for a rapper,
Take the nigga on a horse ride
Anything to take the spotlight off the fact
The boss is a drugged-out lil’ punk sissy from the Northside
Rakim talkin’ shit again
Gassed ‘cause you hit my BM first, nigga,
Do the math, who I was hittin’ then?
I ain’t even know you rapped still
‘Cause they only talkin’ ‘bout your ‘fit again
Probably gotta have a kid again
‘Fore you think of droppin’ any shit again
Even when you do drop,
They gon’ say you should’ve modeled ‘cause it’s mid again
Smokin’ Fenty ‘bout it, should’ve put you on the first one,
Tryna get it in
Ask Fring if this a good idea the next time
You cuddled in that bed again
She’ll even tell you leave the boy alone
‘Fore you get your head split again
Pluto shit make me sick to my stomach,
We ain’t never really been through it
Leland Wayne, he a fuckin’ lame,
So I know he had to be an influence
These niggas had a plan
And they finally found a way to rope you into it
Two separate albums dissin’,
I just did a Kim to it, nigga, skim through it
Me and Savage had the hoes drippin’ wet at shows,
Almost had to swim to it
K-Dot shit is only hittin’ hard
When Baby Keem put his pen to it
Ross callin’ me the white boy
And the shit kind of got a ring to it
‘Cause all these rappers wavin’ white flags
While the whole fuckin’ club sing to it
Murder scene on your man tonight,
Then come to the vigil with the candlelight
Body after fuckin’ body
And you know Rick readin’ my Miranda rights
I’m goin’ on vacation now, hope next time,
Y’all plan it right
‘Cause you gotta pay for saying my name,
Guess now niggas understand the price
Nigga, what? (6ix)
Ayy
Kendrick just opened his mouth,
Someone go hand him a Grammy right now
Where is your uncle at?
Cause I wanna talk to the man of the house
West Coast niggas do fades, right?
Come get this ass whoopin’, I’m handin’ ‘em out
You wanna take up for Pharrell?
Then come get his legacy out of my house
A cease and desist is for hoes,
Can’t listen to lies that come out of your mouth
You called the Tupac estate
And begged ‘em to sue me and get that shit down
I’m losin’ perspective on beef,
Boi-1da send beat and I’ll kill you for fun
Your daddy got robbed by Top,
You Stunna and Wayne, like father, like son
Anthony set up the plays, Kojo be chargin’
You double for nothin’
They shook about what I’ma say,
But textin’ your phone like, “We already won”
You tell me what I shouldn’t say,
But fuck it, my nigga, it’s already done
We already know it’s a twenty-v-one,
We already know why you went number one
It’s clearly because of The Boy,
The honorable thing is to give me the loot
You right about “Fuck the big three,”
It’s only Big D and there’s video proof
Our sons should go play at the park,
Two lightskin kids, that shit would be cute
Unless you don’t want to be seen
With anyone that isn’t Blacker than you
We get it, we got it
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
We get that you like to put gin in your juice
We get that you think that you Bishop in Juice
When you put your hands on your girl,
Is it self-defense ‘cause she bigger than you?
Your back is up against the curb,
You diggin’ for dirt, should be diggin’ for proof
Why did you move to New York?
Is it ‘cause you livin’ that bachelor life?
Proposed in 2015, but don’t wanna make her your actual wife
I’m guessin’ this wedding ain’t happenin’, right?
‘Cause we know the girls that you actually like
Your darkest secrets are comin’ to light
It’s all on your face like what happened to Mike
Oh shit, it’s all making sense,
Maybe I’m Prince and you actually Mike
Michael was prayin’ his features would change
So people believe that he’s actually white
Top would make you do features for change,
Get on pop records and rap for the whites
And wait, you say your brother Jermaine,
But you wanted him to stay out of the light
Oh shit, just follow me, right?
‘Cause nothin’ you sayin’ could bother me, right?
I get off the plane and nothing has changed,
I head to Delilah with all of my ice
Head to Delilah with all of my ice,
Head to Delilah with all of my ice
This shit gotta be over by now
For anyone out here that’s calling it, right?
You’re dead, you’re dead, you’re dead
There’s nowhere to hide,
There’s nowhere to hide, you know what I mean
They hired a crisis management team to clean up
The fact that you beat on your queen
The picture you painted ain’t what it seem, you’re dead
A RESPOSTA DE KENDRICK LAMAR
Kendrick Lamar parecia ter premeditado a diss track de Drake e minutos depois lançou “meet the grahams” (“conheça os graham”), também focada no assunto família, só que do canadense. O rapper de Los Angeles faz acusações igualmente graves, em um formato de carta, com quatro estrofes dedicadas à família de Drake.
Aqui, K.Dot conta um segredo para cada um desses familiares. Porém, o que realmente deixou os fãs chocados, foi Kendrick apontar para uma filha não assumida pelo canadense e que hoje teria 11 anos de idade (Drizzy já negou isso, pela sua conta no Instagram).
Escute “meet the grahams“, com a letra na íntegra, a seguir:
“meet the grahams”
Dear Adonis
I’m sorry that that man is your father, let me be honest
It takes a man to be a man, your dad is not responsive
I look at him and wish your grandpa woulda wore a condom
I’m sorry that you gotta grow up and then stand behind him
Life is hard, I know,
The challenge is always gon’ beat us home
Sometimes our parents make mistakes
That affect us until we grown
And you’re a good kid that need good leadership
Let me be your mentor since your daddy don’t teach you shit
Never let a man piss on your leg, son
Either you die right there or pop that man in the head, son
Never fall in the escort business, that’s bad religion
Please remember,
You could be a bitch even if you got bitches
Never code-switch, whether right or wrong, you a Black man
Even if it don’t benefit your goals,
Do some push-ups, get some discipline
Don’t cut them corners like your daddy did,
Fuck what Ozempic did
Don’t pay to play with them Brazilians, get a gym membership
Understand, no throwin’ rocks and hidin’ hands, that’s law
Don’t be ashamed ‘bout who you wit’,
That’s how he treat your moms
Don’t have a kid to hide a kid to hide again, be sure
Five percent will comprehend, but ninety-five is lost
Be proud of who you are, your strength come from within
Lotta superstars that’s real,
But your daddy ain’t one of them
And you nothing like him, you’ll carry yourself as king
Can’t understand me right now,
Just play this when you eighteen
Dear Sandra
Your son got some habits, I hope you don’t undermine them
Especially with all the girls
That’s hurt inside this climate
You a woman, so you know how it feels to be in alignment
With emotion, hopin’ a man can see you and not be blinded
Dear Dennis, you gave birth to a master manipulator
Even usin’ you to prove who he is is a huge favor
I think you should ask for more paper, and more paper
And more, uh, more paper
I’m blamin’ you for all his gamblin’ addictions
Psychopath intuition, the man that like to play victim
You raised a horrible fuckin’ person,
The nerve of you, Dennis
Sandra, sit down, what I’m about to say is heavy, now listen
Mm-mm, your son’s a sick man with sick thoughts,
I think niggas like him should die
Him and Weinstein
Should get fucked up in a cell for the rest they life
He hates Black women,
Hypersexualizes ‘em with kinks of a nympho fetish
Grew facial hair because
He understood bein’ a beard just fit him better
He got sex offenders on ho-VO
That he keep on a monthly allowance
A child should never be compromised
And he keepin’ his child around him
And we gotta raise our daughters
Knowin’ there’s predators like him lurkin’
Fuck a rap battle, he should die
So all of these women can live with a purpose
I been in this industry twelve years,
I’ma tell y’all one lil’ secret
It’s some weird shit goin’ on
And some of these artists be here to police it
They be streamlinin’ victims
All inside of they home and callin’ em Tinder
Then leak videos of themselves to further push their agendas
To any woman that be playin’ his music,
Know that you’re playin’ your sister
Or better, you’re sellin’ your niece,
To the weirdos, not the good ones
Katt Williams said, “Get you the truths,” so I’ma get mines
The Embassy ‘bout to get raided, too,
It’s only a matter of time
Ayy, LeBron, keep the family away,
Hey, Curry, keep the family away
To anybody that embody the love for they kids,
Keep the family away
They lookin’ at you too if you standin’ by him,
Keep the family away
I’m lookin’ to shoot through any pervert that lives,
Keep the family safe
Dear babygirl
I’m sorry that your father not active inside your world
He don’t commit to much but his music, yeah, that’s for sure
He a narcissist, misogynist, livin’ inside his songs
Try destroy families rather than takin’ care of his own
Should be teachin’ you time tables
Or watchin’ Frozen with you
Or at your eleventh birthday, singin’ poems with you
Instead, he be in Turks, payin’ for sex
And poppin’ Percs,, examples that you don’t deserve
I wanna tell you that you’re loved,
You’re brave, you’re kind
You got a gift to change the world,
And could change your father’s mind
‘Cause our children is the future,
But he lives inside confusion
Money’s always been illusion,
But that’s the life he’s used to
His father prolly didn’t claim him neither
History do repeats itself, sometimes it don’t need a reason
But I would like to say it’s not your fault
That he’s hidin’ another child
Give him grace, this the reason I made Mr. Morale
So our babies like you can cope later
Give you some confidence to go through somethin’,
It’s hope later
I never wanna hear you chase a man
‘Cause his failed behavior
Sittin’ in the club with sugar daddies for validation
You need to know that love is eternity and trumps all pain
I’ll tell you who your father is,
Just play this song when it rains
Yes, he’s a hitmaker, songwriter, superstar, right
And a fuckin’ deadbeat that should never say “more life”
Meet the Grahams
Dear Aubrey
I know you probably thinkin’ I wanted to crash your party
But truthfully, I don’t have a hatin’ bone in my body
This supposed to be a good exhibition within the game
But you fucked up the moment you called out my family’s name
Why you had to stoop so low to discredit some decent people?
Guess integrity is lost when the metaphors doesn’t reach you
And I like to understand ‘cause your house was never a home
Thirty-seven, but you showin’ up as a seven-year-old
You got gamblin’ problems, drinkin’ problems,
Pill-poppin’ and spendin’ problems
Bad with money, whorehouse
Solicitin’ women problems, therapy’s a lovely start
But I suggest some ayahuasca, strip the ego from the bottom
I try to empathize with you
‘Cause I know that you ain’t been through nothin’
Crave entitlement,
But wanna be liked so bad that it’s puzzlin’
No dominance, let’s recap moments when you didn’t fit in
No secret handshakes with your friend
No cultural cachet to binge, just disrespectin’ your mother
Identity’s on the fence,
Don’t know which family will love ya
The skin that you livin’ in is compromised in personas
Can’t channel your masculine
Even when standin’ next to a woman
You a body shamer, you gon’ hide them baby mamas, ain’t ya?
You embarrassed of ‘em,
That’s not right, that ain’t how mama raised us
Take that mask off,
I wanna see what’s under them achievements
Why believe you? You never gave us nothin’ to believe in
‘Cause you lied about religious views,
You lied about your surgery
You lied about your accent
And your past tense, all is perjury
You lied about your ghostwriters,
You lied about your crew members
They all pussy, you lied on ‘em,
I know they all got you in ‘em
You lied about your son, you lied about your daughter, huh
You lied about them other kids
That’s out there hopin’ that you come
You lied about the only artist that can offer you some help
Fuck a rap battle, this a long life battle with yourself
Batalha entre Drake e Kendrick Lamar ganha novas diss tracks, “FAMILY MATTERS” e “meet the grahams”.
Patrocinado
