Juice WRLD - NEW (Snare) lyrics
Juice WRLD [Jarad Anthony Higgins] Chicago, Illinois, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Juice WRLD - NEW Snare lyrics]
CakeBoy Bally
Yo' nigga ain't real, he a fable
Take pills to the face 'til my eyes low
Gettin' top in the Wraith, in
Front of the bank
While I'm countin' up all my bankrolls
Back on that syrup, no maple
Got a Connect, he a plug like cable
Whippin' the babies, rock in a cradle
Police come hide the rocks in a cradle
Opps come through, got a Glock with a laser
My gun be presidential, call my 40
Ronald Reagan
Water on my wrist, water on my neck
I’m lookin' like a sailor
That’s not yo' homie, if y'all jammed up
He tattle-tellin'
She suck on my hammer through my pants
Then it's time to nail her
Uh, sure is a lot of bad bitches in here
It's a snow-storm when I put
My wrist in the air
VVS, no sweat, just glitz in the air
Off White, Saint, I can't get you a pair
But me? I got me a couple of pairs
These fuck-nigga funny like Dave Chapelle
(yeah)
Ball gettin' buckets like pails (yeah)
All my niggas rich over here
Count grips, stack chips, blueface in the air
Grrah, choppa sound like a snare, yeah
Percs got me like a snail, yeah
All my niggas rich over here
Sack chase, rack race, blueface in the air
Uh, choppa sound like a snare, yeah
Everybody get a shell, yeah
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch
Money every-fucking-where
I can’t seem to lose it
Spend it all, fuck it all up, uh
I've been through it all, uh
I’m gettin' buckets, nigga I’m dunkin'
You better check-up this ain't regular
Me and money are married together, forever
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch (Bitch)
Yo' nigga ain't real, he a fable
Take pills to the face 'til my eyes low
Gettin' top in the Wraith, in
Front of the bank
While I'm countin' up all my bankrolls
Back on that syrup, no maple
Got a Connect, he a plug like cable
Whippin' the babies, rock in a cradle
Police come hide the rocks in a cradle
Opps come through, got a Glock with a laser
My gun be presidential, call my 40
Ronald Reagan
Water on my wrist, water on my neck
I’m lookin' like a sailor
That’s not yo' homie, if y'all jammed up
He tattle-tellin'
She suck on my hammer through my pants
Then it's time to nail her
Uh, sure is a lot of bad bitches in here
It's a snow-storm when I put
My wrist in the air
VVS, no sweat, just glitz in the air
Off White, Saint, I can't get you a pair
But me? I got me a couple of pairs
These fuck-nigga funny like Dave Chapelle
(yeah)
Ball gettin' buckets like pails (yeah)
All my niggas rich over here
Count grips, stack chips, blueface in the air
Grrah, choppa sound like a snare, yeah
Percs got me like a snail, yeah
All my niggas rich over here
Sack chase, rack race, blueface in the air
Uh, choppa sound like a snare, yeah
Everybody get a shell, yeah
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch
Money every-fucking-where
I can’t seem to lose it
Spend it all, fuck it all up, uh
I've been through it all, uh
I’m gettin' buckets, nigga I’m dunkin'
You better check-up this ain't regular
Me and money are married together, forever
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch
New kicks, new wrist, new car, black tints
Old hoes dyein' they hair
Tryna act like a new bitch (Bitch)