Why? Because Christmas, that's why.
It was the night before Christmas, and all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, except for Drake, who couldn't sleep because he was way too excited for Christmas.
The stockings were hung by the Young Money chimney with care,
In hopes that Cash Money St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Drake was in bed, all snug wearing two sweaters,
While visions of presents ruffling his feathers,
With Lil Wayne in his 'kerchief, and Minaj in her cap
Had settled their brains for a long winter's nap.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
Drake sprang from his bed to see what was the matter.
Into the yard he flew like a flash,
Cup of lean in his hand, blunt ready to ash.
The moon on the breasts of ten Young Money bros,
As they dreamt of being like Ty$ in a cabana with many hoes.
When what to Drake's eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
Now Drake was leaning sideways, he thought it was a trick,
There was no way it could have been Saint Nick.
More rapid than eagles the reindeer they came,
And though Drake was Jewish he still knew them by name because of the cultural hegemony of Christianity especially during December.
"Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet, on Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!"
Drake mouthed their names, he knew them all,
As well as he knew the words to The Weeknd's "The Fall."
As the sleigh mounted the roof upon high,
Drake rubbed his eyes. He wasn't just high.
Santa dismounted, Drake wanted to hide,
So he quickly retreated back to the inside.
Curious as pie, Drake wanted to see,
So he hid under a table and watched for the tree.
As he drew his head under the tablecloth, ducking carefully down,
Down the chimney Saint Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.
His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
Drake watched in awe, his blunt long cherried.
Santa's droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
The beard on his chin as white as the blow that Lil' Wayne claimed to distribute.
Drake watched with awe, scarcely believing it for himself,
He laughed out of wonder at the jolly old elf.
With a wink in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave him to know he had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings with cash, even Tyga's, that jerk.
Finger on his lips—don't snitch, Drake supposed.
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!
He sprang to his slay, to his gave a whistle,
And away they flew like a rocket, or missile.
Drake heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight,
"Young Money to all, and to all a good night!"