Oh, Aubrey

Sidebar: Drake is the spitting image of his father.

I like(d) Drake. Like I don’t give a flying fuck about him being mainstream or pop or him having a ghost writer. Who really gives a fuck? He had his lil bops back when I was in high school and I thought, “I see you, nigga. Ole dude from Degrassi can make a cute record.”

Nothing Was The Same dropped and I had it on repeat my whole freshman year of college. I thought


If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late dropped and I was definitely a fan. Drake became more than just another light skinned nigga singing. I still bump this junt when I’m in an especially good mood.

Then that whole thing with Meek Mill happened. Then he started working out and calling himself the “champagne papi” and just looking like prosperity in general. It appeared he couldn’t be stopped. He had the juice.


I bought into the hype for Views. I did. I just knew Aubrey was about to drop some fire and long story short, he didn’t…


Now we got More Life and while I admire what he was trying to do, it seems like it’s a no for a lot of people. I gotta say he’s left a lot to be desired without delivering on it and I’m a little sad about it. Why, Drake? How could you do this to me?

The only song that is downloaded to my phone is the one with Quavo. It’s catchy and I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s just something about Quavo that makes me like him. He’s my favorite Migo for sure.

I’m gonna try to hang in there as a Drake fan until the next go-round but he got one more time to pull some shit like this last one and he gone lose one.



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