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And fans of ‘Aubrih’ don’t need to look much further than Drake’s lyrics for the truth.

The rapper's complicated relationship with Ri Ri appears to be spelled out in lyrics throughout his career.

(One of “Closer’s” verses cites actual emo-punk band Blink-182.) Either these dudes have uncovered hidden depths as songwriters just this year, or they are gaslighting us with a simulacrum of human feeling. Assisting the dudes in their emotional rescue is featured singer Halsey, who duets on the track with Taggart, the Chainsmokers’ primary songwriter.

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This be calling, we could never be fake, Thanks to Hip Hop I got a bed in every state, And without it I’d roam the city with no purpose, Without the underground I’m a clown without circus, I flip verses, you feeling me? Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough. I’m on stage with a handful of Panadol’s handing ‘em out, Cos of the head throbbing from the head nodding, And we about putting you out for the count like mic check, You ain’t gonna get Certified respect, So hide your decks, your mics, I might blackout, In a cipher and I’ll still take the title, The name’s Sesta, I snatch an ‘L’ plate and slap it on your forehead, With more force than porn sex.

Let me introduce myself, raise them beers, Pressure MC, been doing this for more than ten years, It’s been a long road I’m glad I stayed on track, A dream of making raps, and getting played on wax, It seems that faking jacks want to cause my demise, Along the way wouldn’t give me play but couldn’t stop the course of my rise, Now of course the sky’s the limit, we fly get with it, You ain’t underground, that’s because you dig it, It took infinite skills and hard work to get this far jerk, Look me in the face, now I’m the one who wears a smart smirk, It wasn’t all negative, took the good with the bad, Us falling will never happen, like catching the Hoods in drag, In orderly fashion I’m thanking those who supported me, Wouldn’t be where I’m standing if they hadn’t have fought for me, From a nothing rep, now we live busting sets, So if you own a Hoods album you get nuff respect. Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough, Hilltop Hoods and we’re coming up, So step on up if you’re dumb enough. Get up in there, Attack your mind with the fine rhyme when I find time, It’s a fine line that you’re walking if you talk on that grapevine, Can’t waste time, need to take on the job at hand, Got skills for this profession typical Certified Wise man, From sky to land, I’m overcoming all your schemes and plans, So take cover as I rain thunder upon you man.

Let me introduce myself, raise them beers, Suffa MC, been doing this for more than ten years, We’ve been through a lot to perfect this art, When Next left the group it near broke my heart, But then Debris stepped up as the DJ, A super team spearheaded by PJ, Chasing dreams like Fats chasing punani, It’s all about the culture, never been about the money, But we had to watch people trying to take advantage, Of us, trying to damn near rob us, We got slowed down by dodgy contract offers, But it would take a nation of millions to stop us, We got our propers, paid our dues in triplicate, Ripping it, till other crews were insignificant, I’ve stayed true, never made myself a hypocrite, Trust me, I’m wise I got the certificate. Contains elements of “Who Is He And What Is He To You”, written by Stanley Wayne Mc Kenny and Bill Withers; Published by Songs of Universal, Inc./Interior Music Corp. People chant the chorus when they hear it; yo it’s on, You rise like a tsunami, when you feel it; it’s the bomb, I’ll make origami of your lyrics, Geez that’s good Suffa, What is it? Every song’s a collection of kid’s charred lives, Like the porn section of Gary Glitters hard drive, Certified Wise throws a jam that’s so hot.

The chorus finally builds to a piercing, desperate mantra: “We ain’t never getting older/ No, we ain’t never getting older.” In essence, this cannily timed song—dropped in late July and topping the charts in late August, in time for back to school and the moment when America’s Danny Zukos recall their Sandy Olssons—is Don Henley’s “The Boys of Summer” for the age of Snapchat.

Let me introduce myself, raise them beers, Suffa MC, been doing this for more than ten years, Ever since I was a youngster, I brought the funk for, The love, and for the party people to get drunk to, Since back in the day we’ve been the major crew, When I step on the stage it’s like déjà vu, Years of performing, years of practice, Respect from my peers, my girls tears on the mattress, Every time that we went on tour, And she was left behind feeling insecure, But she needn’t worry; I wasn’t chasing a girl to rock right, I was chasing the warm glow of a spotlight, City after city, state to state, We were just three mates rocking beats and breaks, So if you made it to a Hoods show to check the style, You get much respect, you made it all worthwhile. This is recreation, set your station, and get your place in, A comfy seat, pump this beat, Pressure will set the occasion, For your entertainment I work hard on my flows, This scene is full of falling MCs I wear hardhats to shows, And every Hip Hop head’s a critic, cos some hit the stage hard, But couldn’t get these assholes open at a gay bar, It’s a comedy festival; they’re so unintelligible, Can’t work out if they got peas for brains, or they’re just vegetables, It’s sounds pathetic as me being anorexic, I do damage like a paralytic, paramedic with no anesthetic, Girls shake my hand, guys want to hug me it’s a worry, If I forgot your name I’m sorry, you’re probably pretty ugly, I’m scared of getting old, so when it comes D-Day, I’m a thank you all for dissing me, then say something clichéd, And when I’m dead and buried I want you in ‘Life Be In It’ shirts, At my cemetery singing… This rowdy crowd of MC’s and DJ’s know how to pound beats, Like pigs with flat feet and crap leads walking down backstreets, So much work went into this the linear notes are fact sheets, Like Black Sheep I’ve got two words for those who slept, No respect. Best to beware, My plans to find your weak points, then what?