The Ride Lyrics

I hate when people say they feel me man, I hate that shit
It’ll be a long time before yall feel me, if ever

[Verse 1: Drake]
You won’t feel me until 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 to forget about the game that you on top of
Your famous girlfriend's ass keep getting thicker than a plot does
And when you forget it, that's when she pop up
And you got a drop but you ride around with the top up
Or get three SUVs for niggas 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's right up your alley
You see a girl and you ask about her
Bitches smiling at you, it must be happy hour
They put the cloth across your lap soon as you sat down
It’s feeling like you own every place you choose to be at now
Walking through airport security with your hat down
Instead of getting a pat down, they just keep on
Saying that they feel you, nigga

[Hook: The Weeknd]
I've been faded too long
I've been faded too long
I've been faded too long
Why won't it stop? The ride
Why won't it stop? The ride

[Verse 2]
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 your 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 your latest nights are your greatest nights
The sun is up when you get home, that's just a way of life
Apartment 1503: some couches and paintings
When 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 getting 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
Telling stories that nobody relate to
And even though they hate you
They just keep on telling you they feel you, nigga


[Verse 3]
I haven't been inside Terminal 1 and 3 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 asking whats good at home
What's good at home?
The same hoes are still at it, I shoulda known
My young niggas popping M’s and sipping dirty jones
Problem children that all be repping October's Own
Brand new girl and she still growing
Brand new titties, stitches still showing
Yeah, and she just praying that it heals good
I’m bout to fuck and I’m just praying that it feels good
I really don’t know much but, shit, I know a secret
They say more money more problems, my nigga don’t believe it
I mean, sure, there’s some bills and taxes I’m still evading
But I blew six million on myself and I feel amazing
Young money maker, season ticketholder
Season switching over
I come through them bitches
Still scorching as if I didn’t notice
You niggas getting older, I see no threat in Yoda
I’m out here messing over the lives of these niggas
That couldn’t fuck with my freshman floater (flow ta)
Look at that fucking chip on your nephew's shoulder
My sophomore, I was all for it, they all saw it
My juniors and senior will only get meaner
Take care, nigga