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First Person Shooter (feat. J. Cole)
Drake
(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
Yeah
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl
Man, this shit damn near big as the—
Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
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 '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
Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?(Ayy)
Big as the Super Bowl
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 Muhammed Ali
Huh, yeah, yeah, huh-huh, yeah, Muhammed 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 beat demon deacons
We got 'em attending a wake
Hate how the gang gotta wait for the boss
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 pin, 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
Nigga
Ayy, I'm 'bout to—, I'm bout to—
I'm 'bout to—, yeah
Yeah
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 down 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 is still takin' pictures on a dog stream
My youngers 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 Jim and Jammer 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, wait
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?
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, what? Beat it, what?
Don't even pay me back on none them favors, I don't need it
Tu historia, tu ritmo, tu fuerza 🦁
Dedícate a ti mismo ese himno que te motiva. Muestra al mundo tu mejor versión y celebra tus logros con música.
- • 💛 Destaca la frase más inspiradora
- • 💛 Pon tu nombre como protagonista
- • 💛 Colecciona tu motivación diaria
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Compuesta por Drake, J. Cole · ¿Los datos están equivocados?
Enviada por Fito Salas · ¿Reportar error?
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Tu historia, tu ritmo, tu fuerza 🦁
Dedícate a ti mismo ese himno que te motiva. Muestra al mundo tu mejor versión y celebra tus logros con música.
- • 💛 Destaca la frase más inspiradora
- • 💛 Pon tu nombre como protagonista
- • 💛 Colecciona tu motivación diaria
Aplicación disponible en Google Play • Descarga Segura
Esta aplicación es propiedad oficial de Tu Letra. Al descargar y utilizar esta aplicación, el usuario reconoce que está accediendo al servicio oficial proporcionado por Tu Letra y acepta cumplir con los términos y condiciones establecidos por la plataforma.
Acerca de esta canción
"First Person Shooter" de Drake, con la colaboración de J. Cole, se sumerge en la dinámica de la competencia y la supremacía en la industria musical contemporánea. La canción se presenta como una declaración de intenciones, posicionando a los artistas como contendientes en un campo de batalla metafórico, donde las rimas son las armas y el éxito es el trofeo. El tono es de autoconfianza desbordante y un sutil menosprecio hacia aquellos que cuestionan su legado o intentan empañar su reputación. La letra revela una profunda conciencia de su lugar en la historia del hip-hop, discutiendo su estatus como "the G.O.A.T." (Greatest Of All Time) y la constante comparación con otros artistas influyentes. Culturalmente, la canción refleja la era actual de la música urbana, marcada por la viralidad, las redes sociales y una constante presión por mantenerse relevante y superar a la competencia. La referencia a "First Person Shooter mode" evoca la mentalidad de los videojuegos, donde la agresión, la estrategia y la eliminación del oponente son claves para la victoria, trasladando esta analogía al mundo del rap. El contexto emocional es uno de dominio y desafío, pero también de una subyacente reflexión sobre el peso de la fama y la constante escrutinio al que están sometidos. El estilo de Drake se manifiesta en su característico flujo seguro, sus letras ingeniosas y su habilidad para entrelazar referencias culturales con afirmaciones de su propio talento, mientras que la inclusión de J. Cole aporta una dosis adicional de autenticidad y lirismo incisivo, consolidando la imagen de un dúo imparable.
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Letra Completa de 'First Person Shooter (feat. 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 Yeah Numero U-N-O Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl Man, this shit damn near big as the— Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the Super Bowl 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 '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 Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?(Ayy) Big as the Super Bowl 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 Muhammed Ali Huh, yeah, yeah, huh-huh, yeah, Muhammed 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 beat demon deacons We got 'em attending a wake Hate how the gang gotta wait for the boss 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 pin, 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 Nigga Ayy, I'm 'bout to—, I'm bout to— I'm 'bout to—, yeah Yeah 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 down 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 is still takin' pictures on a dog stream My youngers 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 Jim and Jammer 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, wait 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? 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, what? Beat it, what? Don't even pay me back on none them favors, I don't need it
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