Juice WRLD - Object Freestyle (No Jumper 21 Minute Freestyle) lyrics

(Hit-Boy)

You know that is my time, ho
Life is money so I got a dime for it
Man,  I see it but my shades strong
This Gucci on my face it help me dap on 'em
You know we stay smoking on that indo
That Travis Scott antidote
But don't call me a random
Pullin' up Pinot Grigio
Fuckin' your bitch she a sleazy ho
I'm sick of her get to sneezy on her
I'm sick of her get to sneezy on her
I pull up on that Fanta and that Sprite
So I told that Pepsi to leave me 'lone
All of them wish they got money on
Look at my jacket, it's Vlone
Look at your bitch listening to Lucid Dreams
I know that shit is her theme song
I control that bitch like a remote
Run up on me then I'm down to blow
All of my niggas they grippin' poles
Illuminati wit' it 'cause I'll
Take your soul i go harder
Get her wetter than bottles of water
Call me stupid I'll pull up on him
And I'll dance like my major
Pulled up in a charger
I'ma die for my shit like a martyr
I'ma die for my shit like a martyr
Talking shit 'til I pull up on
You wit' that handy pack
See martyr niggas I'm hotter
All my niggas got shit like varietal
I see all of this shit like horizon
All my niggas get money for real tho
In my kitchen I'm movin' them pills ho
Hopefully this shit hit home
Fucking that bitch like let's go
Hit that bitch on my cell phone
I won't fuck she on her menstrual
I murder these instrumentals
I'ma hit that bitch with a backstroke
I'ma hit that bitch from the back
But, shit, I'm hot you know how it is ho
Every day I wake up lit tho
Niggas know what it is, what it is ho
Pull up on the scene look like big cloak
It was a green lighter
That weren't no bic tho
I smoke big gas, I smoke big blunts
Talkin' that shit nigga waiting on nothin'
Look at your bank I just see 20s
I got hunnids, you got ones
I'm not the one, you is my son
Pull up on the scene, I make him run
All of my guns is horny as fuck
Pull up on the block and I'll make them cum
Yeah i make this shit look simple
We poppin' like proactive and a
Bunch of fucking pimples
I pull up in that bitch I'm past high
She my computer
My dick is that bitch flash drive
I get the cash, nigga you know I'm too fly
Your bitch fuckin' my bitch
In the end she too bi you know I don't box
But I'm fucking like the box
You talkin' stupid 'til you catch
A shot about this Glock
Your bitch up on my cock
I told that bitch to stop and watch
And all I do is get cash and relax, and plot
Just turn me up a notch
I wake up smoking the pot that's a camera
I flash just like a camera, when it pops
And if you got it, then you got it
See his Gucci on his wallet
Is it Gucci or is this Louis
My designer has me confused
I don't need to stop it i just cop it
Feel like Drake I start from the bottom
I get long neck from your bitch
She an ostrich
Hopefully that's not a problem
I make it look easy for real i told you this
I told you that i make it look easy for real
I know that it's easy to say
But it ain't that easy for real
I'm rolling up backwoods all day
But the papers put me in my feels for real

Did you get all that shit? (Hit-Boy)