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Artist: Drake f/ The Weeknd
Album:  Take Care
Song:   The Ride
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

I hate when
I hate when people say they feel me man
I hate that shit
It'll be a long time before y'all feel me
If ever, f'real

You won't feel me 'til everybody say they love you, but it's not love
And your suit is oxblood and the girl you fucking hates you
And your friends faded off shots of, what you ordered
then forget about the game that you on top of
Your famous girlfriend's ass gettin thicker than the plot does
And when you forget her that's when she pop up
And you got a drop but you ride around with the top up
Or three SUV's for niggaz dressed like refugees
And deal with the questions about all your excessive needs
And you do dinners at French Laundry in Napa Valley
Scallops and glasses of Dolce that shit right up your alley
Yeah~! You see a girl and you ask about her
Bitches smilin at you, it must be happy hour
They put the cloth across your lap soon as you sat down
It's feeling like you on every place you choose to be at now
Walking through airport security with your hat down
Instead of gettin a pat down they just keep on sayin
that they feel you nigga
It's been too long, it's been way too long

[Chorus: The Weeknd]
I've been faded too long, hooo
I've been faded too long, hooo
I've been faded too long, hooooo
When will it stop? The ride
When will it stop? The ride

You won't feel me 'til you want it so bad you tell yourself you're in it
And tell the world around you that yo' paperwork is finished
And steal your mother's debit cards so you maintain an image
And ride around in overpriced rental cars that ain't tinted
You need a minute? You got it
You know its real when yo' latest nights are yo' greatest nights
The sun is up when you get home, that's just a way of life
Apartment 1503 some couches and paintings
where you record with two others that want the same things
It start to feel better than home feels
And so you up there every night, you swear you gettin close
That champagne money was for gas and phone bills
But shit, you 'bout to spend it on what matters most
You drop a couple songs in hopes that you could be the nigga
And come out every night to let the city see they nigga
Tellin stories that nobody relate to
And even though they hate you, they just keep on tellin you
they feel you, nigga
Yeah, it's been too long man


Yeah... uhh
I haven't been inside Terminal one and three in so long
I'm driving right up to it now, make sure you got your coat on
That runway can be cold especially after summer's rolled on
And all you knew is alcohol and city lights and slow songs
For four months out the year, it's got you askin what's good at home
What's good at home? The same hoes are still at it I shoulda known
My young niggaz poppin M's and sippin Dirty Jones
Problem children that all be reppin +October's Own+
Brand new girl, and she still growin
Brand new titties, stitches still showin
Yeah, and she just prayin that it heals good
I'm 'bout to fuck and I'm just prayin that it feels good
I really don't know much but shit I know a secret
They say mo' money mo' problems my nigga don't believe it
I mean sure there's some bills and taxes I'm still evadin
But I blew six million on myself and I feel amazin
Young Money maker, season ticketholder
Season switchin over, I come through them bitches
still scorchin as if I didn't notice, you niggaz gettin older
I see no threat in Yoda
I'm out here messin over the lives of these niggaz
that couldn't fuck with my freshman floater
Look at that fuckin chip on your nephew's shoulder
My sophomore I was all for it, they all saw it
My junior and senior will only get meaner - +Take Care+ nigga

[Outro: The Weeknd]
I'm still faded, faded, faded - the ride
I'm still faded, faded, faded
When will it stop? The ride
When will it stop? The ride
When will it stop? Hooo, the ride