busch (studio session) - juice wrld lyrics
[chorus]
so many drugs in my body, i’m exhausted
i got thugs in the lobby, in the club, f*ck your posse
f*ck with me, i leave you sitting in a coffin
bullets eating up your body, one to the head, now you silent
i remember window shopping, now i cop sh*t
so much gucci in my closet, banded up, f*ck a wallet
all my fans telling me that i should drop sh*t
what you want? i got options, fifty albums in my pocket
[post*chorus]
artist of the motherf*cking year
people scream my name from london to j*pan
codeine sip, i don’t want no f*cking beer
everywhere i go, they know i’m the f*cking man
i get so high i won’t ever land
la in the summertime, get a f*cking tan
but i don’t go outside at all
[verse 1]
that sh*t be having my girl p*ssed off
sorry, i’m anti, but for her love i’m antsy
everyday wanna get in her panties
every night in the stu’ making grammies
just gave fifty bands to my mommy
just gave ten bands to my auntie
you couldn’t do that if you worked your whole life
i know why you’re worried ’bout me, n*gga, you don’t got your own life
hollering at my b*tch like you ain’t got your own wife
they tell me if i take too many of these percs, then i’m gon’ die
f*ck it, i’ma pray to god for a long life
still gon’ live a wrong life
[chorus]
so many drugs in my body, i’m exhausted
i got thugs in the lobby, in the club, f*ck your posse
f*ck with me, i leave you sitting in a coffin
bullets eating up your body, one to the head, now you silent
i remember window shopping, now i cop sh*t
so much gucci in my closet, banded up, f*ck a wallet
all my fans telling me that i should drop sh*t
what you want? i got options, fifty albums in my pocket
[verse 2]
walk up in the building off the pills, yeah, i run it
i’m in the cut with them gunners
i’m a pedestrian, gunna
run up on me then it’s nothin’
barbarian money, i feel like a stunner
started it from the bottom, feel like drake on the n*gga
got my own money, i can’t never hate on a n*gga
n*ggas think they real but they fake, lil’ n*gga
say you eatin’ good, pass the plate, lil’ n*gga
i make bread with my n*ggas, i make bread with my b*tches
i make bread
got a fresh full of liquor, got a gun with a bullet in the head
bad b*tch from taiwana, said she love the marijuana that i spread
talk dumb then i’ma up ’em, big choppas with the gun, a n*gga dead
headshot put his brains on the low
headshots, backshots with his ho
ball out like derek, n*gga, rose
ballerina gun keep you on your toes (uh*huh)
gun on me, c*ck it back and then i realod (uh*huh, yeah, uh*huh)
gun sing, american idol with the glee show (uh*huh)
bape up on my cape, but no, i’m not a hero (yeah, uh*huh)
vvs on my neck, my sh*t is sub*zero (woah, woah)
[chorus]
so many drugs in my body, i’m exhausted
i got thugs in the lobby, in the club, f*ck your posse
f*ck with me, i leave you sitting in a coffin
bullets eating up your body, one to the head, now you silent
i remember window shopping, now i cop sh*t
so much gucci in my closet, banded up, f*ck a wallet
all my fans telling me that i should drop sh*t
what you want? i got options, fifty albums in my pocket
Random Song Lyrics :
- важно (it was important) - егор крид (egor kreed) lyrics
- high-octane - hammy lyrics
- wanna balla - gucci mane lyrics
- i'm a man - the doors lyrics
- wide open - nashville cast lyrics
- barcelona - papatinho lyrics
- honey sweet - dante soho lyrics
- b.r.o.k.e boyz - brokeboy-taco lyrics
- glassy sky - raphael drew boltman lyrics
- пока лена проблем - мирби (mirby) lyrics