9 A.m. In Dallas Lyrics - Drake

These are my 1 St. Thomas flows, me, my niggas, and some Madonna ho's 

That look just like virgins but trust they down to go, yeah 

Discussin' life and all our common goals 

Smart kids that smoke weed, honor roll 

Look how the champagne diamonds flow 

Fine dining, pour another glass when the wine is low 

I'm in the crib stackin' money from here to the ceilin' 

Whatever it is I got is clearly appealin' 

These other rappers gettin' that inferior feelin' 

I hope you feel it in your soul, spiritual healin' 

Take a look at yourself the mirror's revealin' 

If you ain't got it you ain't got it, the theory is brilliant 

People ask how music is goin', I heard it pays 

I just came off makin' two million in thirty days 

Damn, I guess it does is what the message was 

Sometimes I feel I be spendin' my money just because 

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But Weezy I'm just out here reppin' us 

'Til I get to shake the hand of the man that's blessing us 

Yeah, I know these niggas miss the mean lyrics 

Kush got the room smellin' like teen spirit 

I asked kindly if no one out here would bring their feet up 

Until I lose, for now I'm the game's single leader 

I fly private so no one tells me to bring my seat up 

And book a suite where me and your favorite singer meet up 

Who you like, tell me who it is 

I'mma make sure that that woman is the next one on my list 

I should call it a night, but fuck it, I can't resist 

This one is for all the niggas from my city tryin' to diss 

Without a response from me you really fail to exist 

And I love to see you fail that feelin' there is the shit 

I swear, ah, pussy nigga get your bread up 

Enjoy the seat that the stewardess just forced yo' ass to let up 

Why yo' scary ass lookin' down? Pick ya head up 

No one told you your disguise is the most ridiculous get-up 

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With nose plugs in now, I can smell a setup 

So you're just wastin' your time, you only makin' me better 

Yeah, I try to tell 'em don't judge me because you heard stuff 

Chasin' cash, that's my brother from the surf club 

Damn, that nigga always kept it so hood 

Back when we would smoke good at the Oakwoods 

And have girls fall through like coins in a couch 

Now we just fuckin' all the bitches they warned us about 

Scared for the first time everything just clicked 

What if I don't really do the numbers they predict? 

Considerin' the fact that I'm the one that they just picked 

To write a chapter in history, this shit has got me sick 

But if I really do it don't expect to get a split 

'Cause this truly is some shit I don't expect for you all to get 

I'm nervous but I'mma kill it 'cause they about to let the realest team in 

Throwin' up in the huddle nigga, Willie Beamen 

But still throwin' touchdown passes 

In tortoise frame glasses hopin' that someone catch it 

People say that old Drake, we started to miss it 

But they need to be a little more specific 

Man is this what y'all want? 

In my best Chris Tucker impression 

Duckin' your questions, fuck your suggestions 

Money gets all of my love and affection 

Cars, all black like the cover of Essence 

I'm allergic to comin' in second, but I never sneeze, Y.M.O.E. nigga, yeah 

Uh, uh, yeah, that's what y'all want? 

October's Very Own, Young Money, ATF 

Thank Me Later in this bitch, what's up? 

Free Weezy in this bitch, what's up? 

June 15th in this bitch what's up? 

Noel, that's it