Lyrics:
Back in high school
Always kinda knew
I was by myself nobody saw what a player do
Hence why I was a loner, fucking with a few
Was amused by the fools who
on my bed (Aye)
Room dripped in my lead (Aye)
Third eye on the feds (Aye)
Oops bitch I ain't dead (Aye)
I know that you wishing I was
Just draped
off yo top
I been smoking this weed since like 12 (Smokin since like 12)
Roll a j by myself (Roll a j by my)
Making money, making wealth
Niggas watching
spouse
Float like a butterfly, stingin' like a bee
Got me trainin' hard like Muhammad Ali
Bitch I'm a dog wear my heart up on my sleeve
Gucci flip flops
gone blow up
Writing my lyrics
Mass with your head's
It's the only solution I've ever imagined
Man I was told
By people I know
That I'll be nothing in
business, uh, all about my chicken, but I don't do the dishes, uh, his bitch wanna fuck, I know that n***a jealous , uh, make the coupe drive itself im
And change yo plans
It's the numbers on your phone
And numbers on your cell
Verse 2 Juicy J
I ain't messed up by messin crooked cowards
Wit a nigga name
Cause you've never been seen on camera
Wait a minute, you can't say you
Built this platform by yourself bitch
None of us can
That's a combined effort from
Da Hood will keep their heart
Come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your car
I'm in the 6-4, 5th bitch strapped, no roof, roof
The Snowman pimp,
the stocks
And I know niggas that'd bust off your top
I been smoking this weed since like 12 (Smoking since like 12)
Roll a J by myself (Roll a j by my)
Making
things that show we only lust the dream
Her body hypnotize minds she something like the lean
Now if I wasn't taught by O.G.’s or seen things I seen
I would
get deadly don't hide bitch I see u
Got medical weed but that nina illegal
A chef wit dat bitch you get cut like a crinkle I
Every time I run outta
one listen?"
Money I spend on whatever I want, please explain how is that your business?
One through Ten, like "How damn high?"
I was three-six, Juicy J
(Juicy J)
For all the dirt
That I did to my wife
Forgive me lord
Each and every night
Croked cops
Pull a gun don't fight
Blow you away, leave you out
presidential
Plus the rings that I got on by Versace
And I ain't even cocky
I'm just confident that I'm the shit
You hating motherfuckers know what time it
Boolin' in the bondo with a few bitches
And they go to trippin' (and they go to trippin')
Drankin' that GTV, that tequila
Smokin' them stunna blunts (the
Yo bitch name Morgan, she just asked me if I'm Freeman
Lions and tigers around me, we always eatin
Call up TK, ask him what he on, time to flip that
Bumping Ramon Ayala all through Lacoste
Yelling Juicy J hoe when you pass by the house
All the homies know what I've been talking about
Busting guns
something that I'm forgetting even a pretty face can hide the venom people nowadays I don't fuck with them they'll flip the script, like pages pay attention
J.R. Writer:
Holla
No sorrow, haze wrapped in a Tahoe
For all those who saw J smash the Apollo yikes
All covered in ice like I was standing in Times
It's just something bout the moon and the stars
And the dark blue sky that turns me on
I be chillin' in the day by the time somthing down
Gotta get
to smash on the bitch niggas
And you know I like to call this the wrap, hehe, yeah, uh, yeah
It's a wrap and any men that don't wanna get clapped
Better
I'm gettin money lil hoe
Don't try it
Need a new attitude
Bitch I might buy it
Broke a few plates
Over weekend at the Hyatt
Pull off ona chop
Feelin
vibing, could care less 'bout camera time
Write with a purpose, they listen and analyze
Money stay calling so much that my skin feeling dry
Washing hands,
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