conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Ignant Shit with the following description: Drake and Lil Wayne are going on a rapping-spree over Jay-Z’s Ignorant Shit, which is produced by Just Blaze. This is one of Drake’s “Straight-Bars-No Hook” tracks, like 9am in Dallas, 5AM in Toronto , 6PM In New York and 4PM In Calabasas. Furthermore, Drake has said in an interview that the recording of this track was so exhausting, that he chose the slow ballad A Night Off as the next one in the tracklist in order to create a musical diversity. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Drake]
  Yeah, I appreciate your patience tonight
  It's been a moment since I've done some public speaking
  I find nowadays it's, you know, best to keep quiet
  But, uh, sometimes you just gotta let it out
  Young Angel and Young Lion, you know what it is
  [Verse 1: Drake]
  Uh, look, I'm the property of October
  I ain't drive here, I got chauffeured
  Bring me champagne flutes, rosé and some shots over
  I think better when I'm not sober
  I smoke goodie, no glaucoma
  , I'm a stockholder
  Private flights back home, no stop over
  Still spittin' that shit that they shot Pac over
  The shit my mother look shocked over
  Yeah, but with a canvas I'm the Group of Seven
  A migraine, take two Excedrin
  I'm the one twice over, I'm the new eleven
  And if I die I'ma do it reppin', I never do a second
  I swear niggas be eyein' me all hard
  And lyin' to they girls and drivin' the same cars
  Sittin' there wishin' their problems became ours
  ‘Cause we have nothin' in common since I done became star
  I done became bigger, swervin', writin' in my peers' lane
  Same dudes that used to holler my engineer's name
  One touch, I could make the drapes and the sheers change
  And show me the city that I without fear claim
  What I set seems to never extinguish
  Coolest kid out, baby, word to Chuck Inglish
  Count my own money, see the paper cut fingers
  My song is your girlfriend's waking-up ringer
  Heh, or alarm, or whatever
  She be here at six in the morn' if I let her
  But I never get attracted to fans
  'Cause the eager beaver could be the collapse of a dam
  I always knew that I could figure
  How to get these label heads to offer him good figures
  And me doin' the shows gettin' everyone nervous
  'Cause them hipsters gon' have to get along with them hood niggas
  It's all good, I'm goin' off like lights when the show's over
  Make pasta, rent a movie, call hoes over
  Rest in peace to Heath Ledger, but I'm no joker
  I'll slow roast ya, got no holster
  Wet glass on your table, nigga; no coaster
  Burn bread everyday, boy; no toaster
  G and Tez got a SIG, but I'm no smoker
  They just handin' chips to me, nigga; no poker
  I'm with it, Young Money, Cash Money soldier
  My cup runneth over
  The same niggas I ball with, I fall with
  On some southern drawl shit
  Rookie of the year, '06 Chris Paul shit
  D-R., CJ, and Po, I see y'all
  These cases don't work out, I hope we can agree on
  Makin' enough to pay any Judge Judy off
  First thing I'ma do is free Weezy, go [Verse 2: Lil Wayne]
  And I'd take probation
  I don't want that T.I. and Vick vacation
  Private plane, pick location
  I'm goin' to the bank to make a big donation
  Yeah, I don't stunt, I stunt hard
  And if the food ain't on the stove I hunt for it
  But in the meantime you can call me young Roy
  Jones Jr. fightin' the drugs and gun charge
  Shit, don't leave me unguarded
  And I'm a cheesehead, word to Vince Lombardi
  Word to Marky Mark, leave a snitch departed
  All that blood like the Red Sea parted
  My gun go crazy like it's retarded
  Red light on it like it's recording
  I ain't recordin', I'm just C-4in'
  My currency foreign; we are in a league they aren't
  Better dig in your pocket and pay homage
  Better cover your eyes, your face fallin'
  Watch the game from the side, I'm play callin'
  No, I didn't say that I'm flawless
  But I damn sure don't tarnish
  My pistol got comments for your garments
  I'm so high I can vomit on a comet
  K-Y, no homo, I'm on it
  Weezy F Baby, new born bitch
  You know what they say 'bout when your palm itch
  I'm gon' get money, money I'm gon' get
  Young Money in your tummy and we gon' shit
  And get that toilet paper quick, like when Bones spit
  That's right, bitch, I'm back on my grown shit
  That Audemars Piguet, no ice, just chrome shit
  And your boyfriend softer than a foam pit
  I scream, "Fuck the world with a long dick!"
  Motherfucker, I'm me! Yeah, bitch, I'm me!
  You niggas sweet, like the pussy in which I eat
  Fireman burn down your entire street
  So fly I'ma take off when I leap
  Bye! And you can suck my wings
  Stand on my money, headbutt Yao Ming
  Put your hand in the oven if you touch my things
  I'm shufflin' the cards, 'bout to cut my queens
  But I ain't the dealer
  House full of bitches like Tila Tequila
  Yeah, I'm the man in the mirror
  My swagger just screamin', motherfucker, do you hear her?
  Yeah, Drizzy Drake what the lick read?
  We make magic, boy; Roy and Siegfried [Outro: Lil Wayne]
  Woo, Young Mula, baby
  Yeah