juice wrld – yes indeed (freestyle) – juice wrld lyrics
run up on me then you catchin’ a funeral
i scratch it off write it in roman numerals
i f-cked that b-tch in the back and i swear that i never loved her i just want to hit her
i f-cked that b-tch now i’m hitting her sister
run up on me you get spin like a twister
told you before i don’t f-ck with these n-gg-s
i got my hand on on my hand on my trigger
imma go get ’em, she on my d-ck hoppin’, i’m callin’ her tigger
i tell her “go figure”
she [?], i’m talkin hilfiger
tommy on me, i ain’t talking hilfiger
that b-tch a gun
run up on me, i got heat like the sun
count up to 2 cause i am not the 1, uh
better locked up, akon
all my other n-gg-s they gone
r.i.p to all they souls, condolences to all they moms, uh
that’s just how it is
i’m in the bank, makin’ it flip, talkin’ that sh-t
i hit yo b-tch just like a lick
i’m with the sh-ts, i p-ss the ‘roc
ain’t no -ssist, b-tch on my c-ck
run up on me then you get shot
i feel like [?], i got the juice, back when the cut, callin’ it pac, yuh
i’m in the cut with the nina
i’m wettin’ it up like this sh-t aquafina
you run up on me then i’m servin’ em’ bullets like tennis b-lls
n-gg- ain’t talkin’ serena
all of my n-gg-s get money for real
i do money for shows, i cash out on arenas
i take yo b-tch, f-ck her
send to the cleaners
run up on me then i’m k!llin’
i swear that my hand on my nina
don’t want no smoke
all of these n-gg-s ain’t nothin’ but jokes
run up on me like a.. like a facebook post, lil n-gg-, you poked, uh
i’m a rich n-gg-, you broke, uh
must be a pimp, you a ho, yah
run up on me, let’s go
[gunshot sounds] hop on ghosts
yeah, yeah, yeah
i’m finna catch myself, yeah, uh
breath in and out, i had to catch my breath
now imma spaz on they -ss
i leave em’ leakin’ on maxi pads
hotter than a n-gg- in new york with a bag full of clothes tryna catch a taxi cab
run up on a n-gg-, that chopper blast
told you i cannot do battle rap
f-ck -ss tryna battle, that sh-t k!ll
o’neal, rim rattle that
n-gg-s, they snitch, they tattle that
send that sh-t back, d-mn
you must be dope, b-tch i’m crack, yuh
d-mn, a couple of grams, to be exact, yuh
sh-t i’m young, rich and black, yeah, yeah
so you know they hatin’ that
i’m finna spaz on they -ss and you know it
you run up on me then i’m shootin’, it’s over
i got a way with words, they call me a poet, d-mn
run up on me then i’m soaking
that .40 on me and you know that it’s blowin, you know that i’m towin’
your b-tches are hoeing, you know that sh-t goin, uh
i met that b-tch on the lowin’
i picked up on a high route, we smokin’, huh
hotbox in the new whip with a new b-tch
i don’t even know her name, yah
run up on me, that’s okay
got a ak on me, it’s at your brain, yah
i put my d-ck in your main, yah
i just may go sn-tchin’ chains, yah
[?]
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