NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

SHAQUILLE

5y

I feel like Tyler would whoop most rappers

levii

5y

if you were an outsider you would 100% think many posters in this thread suffer from ADHD

SHAQUILLE

5y

I feel like Tyler would whoop most rappers

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

MrKiD

5y

Now Ye stans has checked into the thread

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

SHAQUILLE

5y

I feel like Tyler would whoop most rappers

math fifty

5y

Yet again, it was another late, sleepless night in Atlanta. The studio was packed, yet intimate all at the same time. Warm amber lights washed over exotic leather furniture, creating a dimly lit sonic oasis. A sweet aroma of weed smoke clouded the air, while vanilla scented candles were strategically placed around the room. The mood developed into a haze of relaxation. As engineers and producers methodically worked the mixing boards, Future and the rest of his entourage nodded along to a rough take of a track that would later be called "Diamonds Dancing." Many individuals in the studio danced along while producers ran the track back, but there stood Drake in a dark corner, dissecting every piece of "Diamonds Dancing" with surgical precision. The track stopped playing, and Drake stepped from the shadows. He didn't speak much, but when he did, people listened.

"I'm going back in the booth, play that outro back."

Puzzled, the engineer began playing the outro instrumental back, not questioning Drake's demands. The room fell quiet as people began to observe. As the outro began to play, Drake put on a pair of monitor headphones, rubbed his beard and began to take a drink of a dark, murky substance. Closing his eyes, Drake began to flow freely.

"You doin' me dirty, you know. How we let it get like this I don't know. But that nigga can't save your soul, nah." Producers and entourage members in the studio began to look around the room to see if others were witnessing what was happening. Drake continued crooning into the microphone, while the mood became even darker in the studio.

"Doing me dirty, you doing me dirty. Haven't even heard from you. How can you live with yourself? Haven't even heard from you. How can you live with yourself? Ungrateful, ungrateful." The Engineer looked over to Future with concern. The engineer whispered, "should we stop him?" Future then put up one finger, as to silence the engineer while shaking his head, not taking his eyes off of Drake.

"Your momma be ashamed of you. I haven't even heard from you, not a single word from you, Ungrateful. I'm too good for you, too good for you. You should go back to him, perfect match for you, unstable." Candles in the studio began to flicker and die out, one by one, as if a spirit swept throughout the room.

"Doing me dirty. You're making me nervous. I haven't even heard from you. You look drained, you look exhausted, girl them late nights ain't good for you. Really starting to show on you. Don't hit me up when it's good for you. Ungrateful." By now, everyone had stopped what they were doing, all attention was focused on the darkened silhouette in the recording booth. Finishing up his final thoughts, Drake hung up the headphones, took another sip of muddy water, and crept out of the recording booth.

As he came back into the studio, all eyes followed his every movement. Drake retreated back to his shadowed corner, where he leaned against the wall with his fingers interlocked and pressed against his lips, as if in deep thought. The silence of the room created an uneasy tension. The uneasiness built more and more, as studio members waited for him to speak. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Play it back."

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

Astronaut Dad

5y

what yall bumpin this morning

Zaywop

5y

ADONIS GOT A DURAG AND A MOB BOSS AS POPS

ITS NO DEBATE TO BE HAD

Smoofer

5y

Rt he won’t ever have to lift a finger. Don s***

Hermes Crespo

5y

If anything that was a L for cudi. Niggas felt sad for Cudi cause he was depressed. That nigga a grown ass man

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question

math fifty

5y

Yet again, it was another late, sleepless night in Atlanta. The studio was packed, yet intimate all at the same time. Warm amber lights washed over exotic leather furniture, creating a dimly lit sonic oasis. A sweet aroma of weed smoke clouded the air, while vanilla scented candles were strategically placed around the room. The mood developed into a haze of relaxation. As engineers and producers methodically worked the mixing boards, Future and the rest of his entourage nodded along to a rough take of a track that would later be called "Diamonds Dancing." Many individuals in the studio danced along while producers ran the track back, but there stood Drake in a dark corner, dissecting every piece of "Diamonds Dancing" with surgical precision. The track stopped playing, and Drake stepped from the shadows. He didn't speak much, but when he did, people listened.

"I'm going back in the booth, play that outro back."

Puzzled, the engineer began playing the outro instrumental back, not questioning Drake's demands. The room fell quiet as people began to observe. As the outro began to play, Drake put on a pair of monitor headphones, rubbed his beard and began to take a drink of a dark, murky substance. Closing his eyes, Drake began to flow freely.

"You doin' me dirty, you know. How we let it get like this I don't know. But that nigga can't save your soul, nah." Producers and entourage members in the studio began to look around the room to see if others were witnessing what was happening. Drake continued crooning into the microphone, while the mood became even darker in the studio.

"Doing me dirty, you doing me dirty. Haven't even heard from you. How can you live with yourself? Haven't even heard from you. How can you live with yourself? Ungrateful, ungrateful." The Engineer looked over to Future with concern. The engineer whispered, "should we stop him?" Future then put up one finger, as to silence the engineer while shaking his head, not taking his eyes off of Drake.

"Your momma be ashamed of you. I haven't even heard from you, not a single word from you, Ungrateful. I'm too good for you, too good for you. You should go back to him, perfect match for you, unstable." Candles in the studio began to flicker and die out, one by one, as if a spirit swept throughout the room.

"Doing me dirty. You're making me nervous. I haven't even heard from you. You look drained, you look exhausted, girl them late nights ain't good for you. Really starting to show on you. Don't hit me up when it's good for you. Ungrateful." By now, everyone had stopped what they were doing, all attention was focused on the darkened silhouette in the recording booth. Finishing up his final thoughts, Drake hung up the headphones, took another sip of muddy water, and crept out of the recording booth.

As he came back into the studio, all eyes followed his every movement. Drake retreated back to his shadowed corner, where he leaned against the wall with his fingers interlocked and pressed against his lips, as if in deep thought. The silence of the room created an uneasy tension. The uneasiness built more and more, as studio members waited for him to speak. Finally, he broke the silence.

"Play it back."

NOCTA_VAMP

5y

Stop arguing about who wins in a saint adonis fight man

adonis growing up around the mob life, this isnt even a question