Drake – First Person Shooter ft J. Cole (Official Video)

Drake - First Person Shooter ft J. Cole (Official Video)

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“First Person Shooter” is a song by Canadian rapper and singer Drake featuring American rapper J. Cole. The collaboration track “First Person Shooter” by Drake featuring J. Cole is a dynamic exploration of their status in the music industry and the pressures that come with it.

J. Cole kicks off the song with a metaphorical reference to a “funeral” for competing artists, asserting his dominance in the game. He dismisses any threats and establishes himself as the top contender, likening himself and Drake to a winning team in the Super Bowl.

Drake’s chorus echoes the sentiment of grandeur, questioning what could be as big as the Super Bowl, a metaphor for their immense success and influence in the music industry. Drake reflects on the collaborative process, noting that despite their success, many artists’ contributions fall short. He highlights the superficiality of some artists’ verses and boasts about his and Cole’s superior skills.

J. Cole addresses the scrutiny he faces and dismisses attempts to provoke him into beef. He expresses a desire to collaborate with fellow artists and acknowledges his influence in the industry. The verse is filled with wordplay and references to his upcoming album, “The Fall Off,” asserting his continued relevance and talent.

Drake sets the tone for the second part of the song with a declaration of intent. Drake delivers a rapid-fire verse, boasting about his wealth and sexual conquests. He contrasts his success with the failures of other rappers and expresses confidence in his abilities. He ends with a dismissive attitude towards those who doubt him, asserting his dominance in the industry.

Drake concludes the song with a defiant assertion of his self-worth, stating that he doesn’t need repayment for any favors he’s done. He reaffirms his status as a force to be reckoned with in the music industry. Overall, “First Person Shooter” is a braggadocious track that showcases Drake and J. Cole’s confidence, skill, and influence in the hip-hop world.

First Person Shooter Lyrics by Drake and J. Cole

[Intro: J. Cole]
(Pew, pew-pew)
First-person shooter mode, we turnin’ your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say they wan’ off us, you better be talkin’ ’bout workin’ in cubicles
Yeah, them boys had it locked, but I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin’ my numeral
Not the three, not the two, I’m the U-N-O
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl
Man, this shit damn near big as the

[Chorus: Drake]
Big as the what? (Ah)
Big as the what? (Mm)
Big as the what? (Ayy)
Big as the Super Bowl

[Verse 1: Drake]
But the difference is it’s just two guys playin’ shit that they did in the studio
Niggas usually send they verses back to me and they be terrible, just like a two-year-old
I love a dinner with some fine women when they start debatin’ about who the G.O.A.T.
I’m like go on ‘head, say it then, who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who you bitches really rootin’ for?
Like a kid that act bad from January to November, nigga, it’s just you and Cole
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[Chorus: Drake]
Big as the what? (Ah)
Big as the what? (Mm)
Big as the what? (Ayy)
Big as the Super Bowl

[Verse 2: J. Cole]
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissectin’ my words and start lookin’ too deep
I look at the tweets and start suckin’ my teeth
I’m lettin’ it rock ’cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can’t trust everything that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you, I’d make sure you know that I hit you like I’m on your caller ID
I’m namin’ the album The Fall Off, it’s pretty ironic ’cause it ain’t no fall off for me
Still in this bitch gettin’ bigger, they waitin’ on the kid to come drop like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC
Is it K-Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me?
We the big three like we started a league, but right now, I feel like Muhammad Ali
Huh, yeah, yeah, huh-huh, yeah, Muhammad Ali
The one that they call when they shit ain’t connectin’ no more, feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin’ with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme is me lookin’ at Drake
It’s like we recruited your homies to be demon deacons, we got ’em attending your wake
Hate how the game got away from the bars, man, this shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers, well, fuck it, then everybody breakfast and I’m ’bout to clear up my plate (Huh, huh, huh)
When I show up, it’s motion picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T. with the golden pen, the top toucher
The spot rusher, sprayed his whole shit up, the crop duster
Not Russia, but apply pressure
To your cranium, Cole’s automatic when aimin’ ’em
With The Boy in the status, a stadium

[Part II]

[Intro: Drake]
Ayy, I’m ’bout to, I’m bout to
I’m ’bout to, yeah

[Verse: Drake]
I’m ’bout to click out on this shit
I’m ’bout to click, woah
I’m ’bout to click out on this shit
I’m ’bout to click, woah
I’m down to click out you hoes and make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick like a high beam
Man, I was Bentley wheel whippin’ when I was nineteen
She call my number, leave her hangin’, she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android, her messages is lime green
I search one name, and end up seein’ twenty tings
Nadine, Christine, Justine, Kathleen, Charlene, Pauline, Claudine
Man, I pack ’em in this phone like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures, it’s the small things
You niggas still takin’ pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer than you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin’ them some false dreams
Man, if your pub was up for sale, I buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers? Well, of course not
They don’t wanna have that talk, ’cause it’s a sore spot
They know The Boy, the one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam I use a GRAMMY as a door stop
Girl gave me some head because I need it
And if I fuck with you, then after I might eat it, what?
Niggas talkin’ ’bout when this gon’ be repeated
What the fuck, bro? I’m one away from Michael
Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?

[Outro: Drake]
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, ayy, beat it, what?
Don’t even pay me back on none them favors, I don’t need it

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