Juice WRLD - BBC Radio 1Xtra Freestyle lyrics

I never gave a fuck
I'll fuck your bitch, she give it all, uh
I got the-
Run up on me then I hit them all, uh
Gigolo, gigolo, gigolo, uh
She got my dick, she gon' jiggle it, uh
I'm on the top, I'm on the top
Getting top from a bitch yelling, piglet, uh
Look at the way that I swag, uh
I got Gucci on my bag, uh
I ain't lookin' at the tags
Bad bitch, I hit it from the back, uh
I'm in Dior, spend a rack, uh
Maybe a rack on a rack, uh
Where I'm from, I say, "I'm from Chiraq"
Uh
Run up on me, them pistols'll clap, uh, yeah

That's my flow
Look at that girl, that's yo' ho
Look at her style, she all gold


She wanna fuck, I said no
I ain't even wanna hit her
But I may go ahead and fuck her sister
Pull up on the scene
Choppa' spinnin' like a twister
Goddamn, goddamn, huh, yeah
That's how J kill it, uh
Run up on me, I kill it, uh
Fry him, he in a skillet, uh all these-
I feel it

Back end, fuckin' a bitch from the back end
Like eggs, get it crackin'
Gun on me, I ain't lackin' before the
Win a race like first place
Run it back, so cold like relay
Scratch, scratch on a bitch, no DJ, uh
Boy, I swipe pre paids, nah
I spray black cards, huh, ayy
With no delay, huh my flow crazy, huh
Doped up like the 80's, huh
Big guns like the navy
Rock-a-by with the choppa' like babies, huh
Yeah

Man, I could really talk some
Shit on this one pull the trues down
I could take a shit on this one
I feel like a baller, set a pick on this one
She wanna fan
She gon' take a pic on this one
Take a picture sitting on my dick, huh
Hit the filters up to make
Sure that it's fixed make it look big, huh
She gon' dance like an Irish Jig, huh, ayy
I'm not a rabbit but these
Tricks not for little kids, huh
I'm a master rapper, uh 'Matter fact
I'm probably with a torch and
A bitch burning down tabernacles
I get the last laugh
I'm bombin' like Baghdad
If that bitch swallow my kids
Do that make me a bad dad?, uh
I'm an ass, lad
I'm an asshole with cash-flow, huh
Yo' girl fuckin', that bitch bashful
She got her hands in
The air listenin' Beyoncé
"Single ladies over here"
That's what I say

Early to the party then again
I'm fashionably late off the molly
Run a train on yo' bitch
That's a stylish ass trolly
Out Dior, spend a couple pounds, nigga try me
Did I say, "A couple pounds"?
I meant a couple thousand
Money in my pocket
Could build a platinum fountain
And if I pull up with security that's my 40
Cause never in my life have i needed bouncers
I been so, "Fuck this" and so
"Fuck that' my bitch talks up it, say
"Get the fuck back"
I feel like a crackhead hiding- woah
I feel like a crackhead hiding
Work how I spit crack
I got so much drive, if I stop it
You catchin' whiplash i hit the strip club
Throw a couple bands on yo' bitch ass
I was getting cash ever since
I was a youngin'
I feel like Drake and Future, ballin'
Jumpman, Jumpman, Jumpman
Pull up on me, get to bussin'
Choppa on me with combustion
My word is my weapon
So is my and I got that from the West end
With a bad bitch, she bussin'
And he best friend more open than a book, uh
She fucked my cousin, I ain't
Even have to look, uh
Ain't talkin' boxing
I ain't gotta throw a hook
I freestyle crazy, kinda like an open book
That's probably cause when I was
Little I was reading books, uh

See, now I'm smarter got my arm in the rim
I'm ballin' like Vince Carter
Always ball like a starter
At yo' head like a barber
Bombin' hard, Pearl Harbor
Try me if you want it you get smoked like a
Backwood full of marijuana

Ain't no weed getting saved around me
That bitch fuck for free
That shit a guarantee i'm in London
So I tell her she not my cup of tea
Talkin' dumb