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classic trap (studio session) - juice wrld lyrics

[part 1]
i’ma murder all these n*ggas, never heard of none these n*ggas
i’m so murdersome, i swear you run up on me i’ma get ’em
got my finger on the trigger, i ain’t worried ’bout sh*t
these n*ggas chasing f*cking b*tches, f*cking b*tches
chasing millions, that’s what i’m on
all about this green like a crouton
tryna get this million, i’ma put my whole crew on
couple shots up out the glock, d*mn, you cruel, uh
i swear to god, a couple shots, d*mn, yo’ crew gone
anybody wanna come and get it, i got it
forget it b*tch, i’m water whipping, stirring sh*t on a pot
these n*ggas talkin’ h*lla sh*t meanwhile i’m getting the drop
i’m sippin’ act’, i’m mixing drop
you run up on me, get popped
i swear to god i’m on top while getting top from a thot
the parking lot, you run up on me, n*gga, that’s where it pop
my n*ggas serving rocks, yeah, my n*ggas serving all that
aiming at yo’ ballcap, n*gga better fall back
spazzin’ on the track, mag blastin’ on the track
boy, i swear i pull up in that martin aston on the track
these n*ggas so dumb, they don’t know how to act
meanwhile my n*ggas got the macs posted in the back
“what you want? what you want?” i’ll hit your f*ckin’ line
all these n*ggas throwing watches, they just wasting f*cking time
anybody got a problem, run up on ’em and he die
got a .9 and i’ma run up, k!ll you at yo’ 9 to 5, boy
[transition]
i’ma show these motherf*ckers what’s up (ayy)

[part 2]
whole time i was on some different sh*t
n*ggas talking dumb until i pull up where his house is
run up in that b*tch and now he quiet like a mouse is
prolly run up in yo’ house and f*ck your f*cking spouse, quick
then i hit the car, boy
whole time i’m rolling off the bars in the car, boy
spitting bars off the bars, i can make it far, boy
i be on mars, yeah, coolin’ in the car, boy
thirty, that’s a .30 on my hip
don’t get scarred, boy
aye, i play the game but i don’t play games
these n*ggas lame, run up on me, b*tch i bet i change frames (get it?)
my glock got a picture, my mouth got a swisher
you run up, boy, you fake like illusions
ain’t nothing else to it
i been getting money since day one
my brother locked up, won’t let him out like akon
the whole time i’m eighteen, b*tch i’m like adolf
these n*ggas want that steak sauce, turn them to nate dogg
(now who the f*ck these n*ggas think they is though?)
i’m handlin’ my bizz, smoking this reefer like khalifa
i’m not a wiz’, ho
you run up on me, i got the glock out the window
nerdy brain from your b*tch, i ain’t talking ’bout winslow
woah, now let me go ‘head, spit it
i’m stevie wonder with this sh*t, you n*ggas can’t see visions
i’m in the cut, mother f*cka’ ain’t talking scissors
b*tches like o.z. and i ain’t talking ’bout wizard (go figure)

- juice wrld lyrics

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