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juice wrld - yes indeed freestyle lyrics

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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+ggas
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 shove through the tommy’s, 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+ggas 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 l!ck
i’m with the sh+ts, i pass the ‘roc
ain’t no assist, b+tch on my c+ck
run up on me then you get shot
i feel like bishop, 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+gga ain’t talkin’ serena
all of my n+ggas 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+ggas ain’t nothin’ but jokes
run up on me like a… like a facebook post, lil n+gga, you poked, uh
i’m a rich n+gga, you broke, uh
must be a pimp, you a ho, yah
run up on me, let’s go
[gunshot sounds] hop on go
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 ass
i leave em’ leakin’ on maxi pads
hotter than a n+gga in new york with a bag full of clothes tryna catch a taxi cab
run up on a n+gga, that chopper blast
told you i cannot do battle rap
f+ck ass n+gga tryna battle that
shaquille o’neal rim rattle that
n+ggas, 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 ass 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 totin’
your b+tches are hoeing, you know that sh+t goin, uh
i met that b+tch on the lowin’
i picked up in a hot rod, 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
bring it back
i sell that sh+t to the gang
i sell that sh+t to the gang
run up imma sn+tch yo chain
i sell that sh+t to the gang
can’t you n+ggas see the difference
everyday i on a different sh+t
i’m just tryna keep my distance, yeah
i’m just tryna keep my distance, yeah
f+ck n+ggas cant get wit it
transform like im witwicky
in a new car boy i’m quick wit it
with a white b+tch and she still sniffing
from the sh+t i brought her last night
jet lag from the last flight
scuffed up the pair of black mikes
that i bought back in l.a
switch it up kinda like a s+x change
.40 on my hip like a gun range
pull up on a n+gga like ok
man down b+tch no mayday
westwood i think i can rap forever
i think i can rap forever
no matter where i’m at
no matter the continent
i can probably rap wherever
i can spit whatever
i’ll probably take yo b+tch whatever
they selling plays for the kid
they told me to pick whenever
imma go in one more time
i drop that b+tch like a dime
she fall in love with the words
then she fall in love with the lines
it is a difference
it is a difference
(between words in lines)
(uneral funeral)
i’m just tryna catch a vibe



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