Lyrics:
a flight cause I ain't stressing shit
LA for the week
M.I.A by the beach
Skirt off in a foreign then dip overseas
I count every dollar don't need no machine
on my face, yea I'm vibin'
Juice WRLD
Twenty one years went by so fast but we all keep speedin'
Juice WRLD
Juicy got rap and it slaps so hard, wish he was
a 4 way take A Zip Out (Ha)
Keep 30 round in my clip now (Strapped)
This a FN this A Big Fye
I'ma roll a 100 dollar 3.5 (Say what?)
You know my trap
Uh, it's that knock right here
Uh, y'all in that mood yet?
You need a subwoof' to play this in the car by the way
Let's go
I'm a be quiet, let
else
And by somebody else..
I mean I'm all by myself
Cause I got twenty dollars in my pocket right now
But, knowing that I think I'm still cool
And I got
a slut
She probably seen by one of them members
Ain't no struggling, bitch, I'm struggling puttin' this 20 in my denim
Put up 20 in LA, we blew a rack
Damn she doin' it to me
5 dollars 10 dollars 20 dollars more
Check to see her roll when she work the pole
Make it so a nigga yells sex appeals
So
towers
Mad your bitch had the bitch bitch holla'
It ain't about dollars I don't wanna hear about it
Never squared boy this nigga right hear 'bout it
Yo, Dre! (Dre! Dre! Dre!)
It was once said by a man who couldn't quit
Dope man please, can I have another hit?
The dope man said "Cluck, I don't
I lit out from Reno
I was trailed by twenty hounds
Didn't get to sleep that night
Till the morning came around
chorus:
I set out running
I'm savin a little money, twenty dollars ain't shit
I'm still hungry, and thirsty
You haven't seen the worst of me yet
Since we met it's back to back
the radio he looks 15 years
Old, like he's in here for
Stealing gum there's Lawson
Who gave me the magazines and
Taught me how to
Use the phone twenty
Before I'm judged by 12, put a 12 on my V
Told my niggas, "I need you"
Stay up I know these times ain't true
Real life, what's free
Since a lad, I
you wanna rewind me
All the labels wanna sign me
For the right reasons we aim to please
Huntin' dollars and it's buck season 'Cause
Various women, I'm
good
Ride on 20's with TV's
Leather interior and wood
Rolexes, at least ten G's on a necklace
Pullin up at the club in
Two Caddy truck stretches
My click
polished look
And twenty dime bitches, to show y'all niggaz how my two dollars look
The boy's got at least six digits on
So the guns gotta be at least
got jammed up, kept discussin' business on the phone
Scotty turkey bags, boy, we burn up zips
Two-hundred bands off them twenty dollar burn up flips
wanna
[mia x]
Let the champagne glasses, cashes, comin out the ass
Drinks for everybody, biggest mama stickin up the tab (mama mia)
Don't even ask if I
the pages
From the 303 to the DMV
We all dream about a dollar and the VIP
But I'll be MIA, in the end, I'll say
If you ain't gonna ride with me, don't get in
Want to be a baller shot caller
Twenty inch blades on the Impala
A caller gettin laid tonight
Swisher rolled tight gotta spray my ice
I hit
watch me work (turn up)
Talk about it I did it (did it)
Day and night I'm gone get it (yea)
Yup, gotta 100 dollar bill
Break it in a 20, couple
twenty five
My first million by twenty five at the very least
so thatll be in seven years
So Ill be a multimillionaire in ten years
Confused by this world
souls who ran to each other
Then we are two lonely ghosts with nowhere to go
I got twenty-four dollars, there's a hole in your heart
I'll take you out
Tryna get me
20 thousand dollar what the lick reed
He don't want no problem
Make him wispy
He ain't talking collard
But we get green
If you hit my
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