bmass

3y

ken carson ass

bmass

3y

it makes sense

how are you going to get mad at people for defending a song they like

but also have a good portion of users defending nazism and not care as much

doot doot

3y

Wtf is this lmfaooo I’m crine

TheEPSD

3y

they thought Fair Trade was mid??? that s*** sounded insane from the snippet alone and delivered

The Darkest Angel

3y

Yall already tagging new customers for him that's lowkey so wholesome. sizzabella really the plug

Himothee

3y

· edited

Once more, it was a late, restless night in Atlanta. The studio bustled, yet felt close-knit all at once. Soft amber lights illuminated the state-of-the-art equipment, casting a subdued glow over the space. The sweet scent of coffee hung in the air, while subtle, refreshing fragrances from strategically placed air fresheners added to the atmosphere. A sense of calm enveloped the room. Yachty and his crew nodded along to a rough draft of a song that would later be dubbed "Search & Rescue." Many individuals in the room exchanged ideas as they reviewed the song, but there stood Drake in a dim corner, scrutinizing every aspect of "Search & Rescue" with surgical precision. The room hushed, and Drake emerged from the shadows. He rarely spoke, but when he did, people paid attention.

"I'm heading back into the booth, play the instrumental."

Perplexed, the engineer started recording again, without questioning Drake's instructions. The room fell silent as everyone turned their focus to him. As the outro played, Drake donned a pair of noise-canceling headphones, stroked his beard, and took a sip of a dark, mysterious beverage. Closing his eyes, Drake began to think aloud.

"I know I'm a pit bull but dale, mami. I just wanna take you on a holiday mami. Say what's on your mind I'm a call away mami."

OVO members and support staff glanced around the room, ensuring others were witnessing the unfolding scene. Drake continued to reflect in the booth, while the atmosphere in the command center grew heavier.

"Take me out the club, take me out the trap. Take me off the market, take me off the map. I'm tryna hit the group chat and tell 'em it's a wrap."

The engineer looked over at Yachty with concern. He whispered, "should we stop him?" Yachty raised one finger, silencing the technician and shaking his head, never taking his eyes off of Drake. The lights in the studio began to flicker and dim, one after another, as though a phantom presence had entered the room.

"Don't know how to express my love. That's why I American Expre-e-e-e-e-ss my love for you."

By now, all activity had ceased, and everyone's attention was riveted on the shadowed figure deep in thought. Finishing his contemplation, Drake removed the headphones, took another sip of the murky liquid, and stepped out of the dim corner.

As he returned to the main area, all eyes followed his every move. Drake retreated back to his shadowy spot, leaning against the wall with his fingers interlocked and pressed against his lips, seemingly lost in profound thought. The silence in the room created a palpable tension. The unease mounted, as everyone awaited his response. At last, he broke the silence.

"Play it back."

The Darkest Angel

3y

I remember when ktt thought Fair Trade was mid and it aged like wine. Yall will catch up eventually

Keepthereceipt

3y

we take care of our own

MVYHEM

3y

Yachty be locked in with him now fr

Himothee

3y

· edited

Once more, it was a late, restless night in Atlanta. The studio bustled, yet felt close-knit all at once. Soft amber lights illuminated the state-of-the-art equipment, casting a subdued glow over the space. The sweet scent of coffee hung in the air, while subtle, refreshing fragrances from strategically placed air fresheners added to the atmosphere. A sense of calm enveloped the room. Yachty and his crew nodded along to a rough draft of a song that would later be dubbed "Search & Rescue." Many individuals in the room exchanged ideas as they reviewed the song, but there stood Drake in a dim corner, scrutinizing every aspect of "Search & Rescue" with surgical precision. The room hushed, and Drake emerged from the shadows. He rarely spoke, but when he did, people paid attention.

"I'm heading back into the booth, play the instrumental."

Perplexed, the engineer started recording again, without questioning Drake's instructions. The room fell silent as everyone turned their focus to him. As the outro played, Drake donned a pair of noise-canceling headphones, stroked his beard, and took a sip of a dark, mysterious beverage. Closing his eyes, Drake began to think aloud.

"I know I'm a pit bull but dale, mami. I just wanna take you on a holiday mami. Say what's on your mind I'm a call away mami."

OVO members and support staff glanced around the room, ensuring others were witnessing the unfolding scene. Drake continued to reflect in the booth, while the atmosphere in the command center grew heavier.

"Take me out the club, take me out the trap. Take me off the market, take me off the map. I'm tryna hit the group chat and tell 'em it's a wrap."

The engineer looked over at Yachty with concern. He whispered, "should we stop him?" Yachty raised one finger, silencing the technician and shaking his head, never taking his eyes off of Drake. The lights in the studio began to flicker and dim, one after another, as though a phantom presence had entered the room.

"Don't know how to express my love. That's why I American Expre-e-e-e-e-ss my love for you."

By now, all activity had ceased, and everyone's attention was riveted on the shadowed figure deep in thought. Finishing his contemplation, Drake removed the headphones, took another sip of the murky liquid, and stepped out of the dim corner.

As he returned to the main area, all eyes followed his every move. Drake retreated back to his shadowy spot, leaning against the wall with his fingers interlocked and pressed against his lips, seemingly lost in profound thought. The silence in the room created a palpable tension. The unease mounted, as everyone awaited his response. At last, he broke the silence.

"Play it back."

MVYHEM

3y

Yachty be locked in with him now fr

The Darkest Angel

3y

I remember when ktt thought Fair Trade was mid and it aged like wine. Yall will catch up eventually

Faith

3y

damn took 10 niggas to make this?

TheEPSD

3y

they thought Fair Trade was mid??? that s*** sounded insane from the snippet alone and delivered

erosion

3y

Awkward has me floatin man

Faith

3y

damn took 10 niggas to make this?

bmass

3y

whole new genre

unheard of s*** yk