Lyrics:
Turn Up
(Mike Will Made-it)
We gon' always get money, man
Young Jeezy, Big Sean, Juicy J
(Ear Drummers)
Boss shit, nigga, let's get it
Every
to the pool like a Ray J date
Hey now, yo, don't make that face
Man I just had to take a break
I'll get back to the paper chase
Well worth the weight like Shaq
Yeah
What you doin'
Ugh
What I'm doin'
(Ronny J yo)
I don't chase paper, paper chase me (yeah)
I don't chase paper, paper chase me (yeah)
Turn Up
(Mike Will Made-it)
We gon' always get money, man
Young Jeezy, Big Sean, Juicy J
(Ear Drummers)
Boss shit, nigga, let's get it
Every
complete, I did a song with Bun B
And Juicy J, who the fuck fucking with me?
I think nada, lame rappers you make me gog up
The part, depart these niggas
on the calculator
Big wads in my pockets, money barely bend
I'm so sincere riding in a Belly Benz
Hit the booty club, drinking Sapphire gin
Juicy J don't fuck with
Lebron James wrist when I'm fucking with yaper
Hit the trap, stay down watch the paper wake up
Booming out the house and J asking for a waiter
(half
Lebron James wrist when I'm fucking with yaper
Hit the trap, stay down watch the paper wake up
Booming out the house and J asking for a waiter
(half
mind 'cause I'm Juicy J
Throw, and I get a nine, tint all in my cars
Hoes acting hard
Blowing smoke on a broad call my boys like all aboard
Turn up
play dat song by J Cole in da morning
Niggas know my paper long could go to war in da morning
Give yo ass da blues im gon blow with no warning
Put you
[Verse 1: Juicy J]
Yah, she freaky, freaky deeky, didn't ya see her in a bikini
Porno movies we got plenty, and ya know they smoke them beenies
For
hood doin yeah
Those are the rules in this mafia race
Tear da club up thugs mash down on a g-string...
Verse 3
[juicy j]
When we drop
Always keep it
a fade-away
Balling like a pair of J's
Know I got that fade-away
Balling like a fade-away
Know I need my cake today
Wake up in the morning said I need to chase
been smokin'
I'm hangin' out with Juicy J, nigga, so you know we smokin' mane
Yeah, mm-hmm, out here in Memphis, Tennekey, yeah
Good lookin' out,
Dior
Degenerate down to my core
Imma rock J's like Juicy
Imma, imma, imma rock J's like Juicy
Money get long Uzi
Money, money, money rack long like Uzi
at the Grammys, Tom Ford to my feet (ah-ha)
Boss on the avi, Rihanna screensaver
Whenever you see fat boy, I know it mean paper (we trippy, mane, uh)
Juicy J
jump your pretty ass in my car in my car girl
[Juicy J:]
I'm smokin on some Taylor shit
Lookin for a festive bitch
Ridin on twenty sixes my pockets
breaking her back
Hallelujah cause I'm young and I'm black
I'm Pablo Redd not a crib, not a blood
I'm stuck in the trap rolling J's getting high
I don't need
motherfucker push
I'm affiliated wit more terrorists then g bush BITCH!
Verse 2
(Juicy J)
We got them niggaz gettin wild gettin buck
Havin fits
Hand
Logic
Talk shit, get hit, nigga
This is a world premiere
Logic, Juicy J, College Park
Takin' 'em back to 2011, my nigga
It's a good day (good
Juicy J he ride, it's the gang or die
The game will stress you out but that's what this dubie is for
You acting like you know me now
Never knew me
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
high, sittin' 22 inches fly
Who the shit
[chorus]
[Juicy J]
Smokin' on some taylor shit, lookin for a thirsty bitch
Ridin' on 26's, my pockets never
Tony Montana
Maison Margiela boot right up in Manor
Wiz Khalifa da reefer, smoke by the pound
Drunk on Juicy J like I'm on the brown
Touching that
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