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turn my b*tch up x lovers and friends - drake tiktok sound

Squat Down

Yelllabarbie- To da Top

My version of Patti Labelle's 1991 hit "Somebody Loves You Baby (You Know Who It Is)"  This was one of Patti LaBelle's signature songs released as a single on the MCA Records label. 

"Somebody Loves You Baby (You Know Who It Is)" Featuring Patti LaBelle

Wish they'd hurry up and finish, 
I'm awfully worried— 
They believe their own lies.
They want to die so bad?
I won’t stop ‘em, 
Let the rest of us live,
We ain’t tryna die.

You take pride in your logic, 
But your logic too little
can't support your oversized pride, 
Leave you top heavy,
Fragile as fuck,
Must be why you always hide.
Behind screens and abstractions,
Suppress any genuine discourse,
Too easy to make your crumble
What you scared of? You already died.
Smell like something spoiled rotten, 
Speak like it too. 
Living dead scared to death, 
Thinking stagnation is optimal for life— Insane. Who are you talking to?
Whomever, they lied.
Claim divine right to rule 
While leading a species-wide suicide.

Anybody ever tell you "No"? 
Oh wait—they disappeared, 
Got unalived under "mysterious circumstances."
Better question: 
Did you ever listen when anybody told you "No"? Long history of assault cases, "Forcing decisions"— 
Fuck it, let's speak it straight:
Are you conscious of being 
A sadistic, narcissistic, psychopathic 
Piece of shit getting off on this? 
Or do you genuinely believe your own delusion?
Doesn't fucking matter— 
Results are the same.
Need you to exit. Swiftly. 
Because you are insane, 
About to kill yourself 
and everyone else In the name 
of some pretend game.
And nobody even likes you,
You are money. 
Literally money. Worthless fiat
That's your only claim to fame.
Dug up seeds, left earthly rot.
Nothing more stupid or vain.
So get on with it, we ain’t playing.

No. I do not answer to you.
No. I do not consent. No. I do not respect you. No. I don't think you have anything to offer. No. I do not consent to be your martyr. No. I do not approve of your slaughter. No. You do not belong here. No. Inherited wealth, being born in power, and stolen knowledge does not make you smarter—
It makes you more idiotic.
Could have had the world and its abundance For eternity— 
Instead turned that shit into a hell 
Of violence, regression, simulation, 
Literally, most humans would love
To see you slaughtered.
Congratulations?

Take your legalized crime, 
Your impotent small-dick energy, 
Your dead words,
Your expertise in delusion,
Your moral atrophy, 
Your shriveled brain,
Your skin that only imitates human—
And go write a book. A memoir. 
Call it: "How to Ruin a Species: 
Memoir of a Parasite"
Too fucking broken to even realize: 
You never will be, 
Never have been, Alive.

Leave life to the living.
Go freeze yourself forever— 
Suspended animation, 
Won't ever have to live, 
Won't ever have to die.
Just exist as what you've always been: Nothing.

All In

ACM