Lyrics

[Verse]
Start the track raw, spitting bars like a chef's knife,
Six God slipping, tryna cling to the past life.
Take your hotline bling, hang it up on a clothesline,
All that singing? Bro, how you claim the throne’s mine?

[Chorus]
Oh Drake, the champagne’s gone flat,
Tryna dance on beats but can't step back.
From the "Wheelchair Jimmy" to this act,
A ghost in your studio holding your plaque.

[Verse 2]
Turned Toronto views into memes overnight,
Crying over Rih while you scribble, that's your fight?
A certified lover boy drowning in mascara,
Wondering if your ghostwriters give you that bravado.

[Bridge]
The kid whose pen's renting rooms in your castle,
Quentin built the walls, you just host the hassle.
Your vibe's vanilla, your flow's too plain,
Creme brûlée dreams but you ended up grain.

[Chorus]
Oh Drake, the champagne’s gone flat,
Tryna dance on beats but can't step back.
From the "Wheelchair Jimmy" to this act,
A ghost in your studio holding your plaque.

[Verse 3]
Call it God's Plan, but the pen’s not divine,
Stealing flows off the vine, man’s crossing the line.
Started from the bottom? Nah, the script wrote that climb,
Now you're acting hard, sticking mics in your shrine.