It's 2 a.m. You and Drake just got back from his concert. You're both famished— him from performing, you from dancing. You ask the concierge at the hotel if there's any place to get a bite around here, but you're met with a strange look. It's after midnight and you're in Akron, OH — restaurants close much earlier around these parts. It looks like it's going to be room service again.
That's okay, though. You're with Drake, a.k.a. Champagne Papi. He can elevate the ordinary to extraordinary. He's got a Kevin Hart hat and a purple robe; add in some hotel slippers and he's ready to rock your palate. The hotel may only have cheddar on its cheese plate, but you're with Drizzy. That run-of-the-mill orange cheese looks more like a Provolone or a rare Brie. He's just that talented.
Jay Z may check cheddar like a food inspector, but Drake turns it into fine fromage.
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