We love the writers at GQ…

Peep Claire Hoffman’s description of Drizzy’s crib:

The backyard of Drake’s mansion is indistinguishable from the set of one of those late-night Lifetime romance flicks. Waterfalls gush all around, surging over enormous boulders. Bronze animals—lions, elephants, giraffes!—checker the lawn, glimmering in the last light of the San Fernando Valley sun. A giant fire, fit for a king from Middle-earth, burns in an outdoor fireplace, and a flat-screen TV plays Sixteen Candles.

In the foreground of this lady-fantasy tableau sits Drake, who has the six-one body of a well-built man but the dodgy eye contact of a teenager. (At first, anyway.) He awaits me on a couch with more chintz pillows than I can count, wearing baggy jeans and Jordans, his simple gray T-shirt accentuated by two long diamond-rope necklaces, lest I forget that he is 25 sittin’ on 25 mil. At the ready are a bottle of chilled white wine and a pitcher of ice, for tonight we shall drink wine spritzers, his favorite beverage and also mine.

“If you went down the waterslide,” he says, taking my hand, helping me over the stones that cross his blue lagoon, pointing to a chute running down a steep two-story cliff above the pool, which, by the way, is filled with statues of bare women, “how amazing would that be for your article?”

Somebody clearly thinks they are Hugh Hefner!

And here’s the part where it got really tender and almost bought tears to our eyes:

“Me and my dad are friends. We’re cool. I’ll never be disappointed again, because I don’t expect anything anymore from him. I just let him exist, and that’s how we get along. We laugh. We have drinks together. But I spent too many nights looking by the window, seeing if the car was going to pull up. And the car never came.”

Tell it to 2Chainz boo, his father figure was Too Short!!!

But of course the writer couldn’t even make it out of Drizzy’s manse without him trying to find out whether “She Will”… sleep with him!

When I ask about the strange square above the bed, he grabs a remote, and a projection system emerges from the ceiling. Neato, I say.

“Would I have you already?” he asks. “Are you sleeping with me?”

Time to go!

It’s a hypothetical question (I think), but Drake, being Drake, still wants an answer: “We had wine and dinner by the pool, I brought you inside, I brought the projector down; are you or are you not sleeping with me?”

SMH…

Sebastian Kim/GQ