Juice WRLD
Flaws (Studio Session)
[Intro]
One to eleven ABK shit, you know I be fleein' gang shit, you know I rock
999, 999, ho
G-Money, we gettin' money, right?
Huh, ya dig

[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my draws
That bitch know that I'm a boss
I'ma catch like Randy Moss, ayy
I ain't ever off, yeah
All I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, 'cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks up, racks up
I don't fuck with nobody I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf
Boy that shit dead, like Nate Dogg
Say you want beef trouble, like Steak Sauce
Migos in the trap, like Takeoff
Big guns, they'll take yo' face off
Can't see these fuck-n***as like Ray Charles, yeah

[Verse 1]
A hunnid bands, spend all that shit
She looked at my whole team, then fucked on them
He say he want smoke
We'll up on him, and we'll bust at them
They don't want no static
Rock my choker, and tote my ratchet
Do a drill, listenin' to Lenny Kravitz
Off a pill, I dunk, Shaquille
Tight jeans, bankrolls for sex appeal, yeah
[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my draws
That bitch know that I'm a boss
I'ma catch like Randy Moss, ayy
I ain't ever off, yeah
All I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, 'cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks up, racks up
I don't fuck with nobody I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf
Boy that shit dead, like Nate Dogg
Say you want beef trouble, like Steak Sauce
Migos in the trap, like Takeoff
Big guns, they'll take yo' face off
Can't see these fuck-n***as like Ray Charles, yeah

[Verse 2]
Uh, in the booth, yeah, uh
Smokin' boof, yeah, uh
Fuck the lies, I get high to see the truth, yeah, uh
Who am I? Fuck n***a, who are you? yeah, uh
Cock it back, load it up, I let it shoot, yeah, uh
Got the juice, yeah, uh
Got the juice, yeah, uh
It's my world, it's my world, I got the juice, yeah, uh
Got the juice, yeah, I got the juice, yeah, uh-huh, uh-huh
Yeah, I pour a four inside my cup like it's nothing
You run up on me, then you know that it's bussin'
You ain't talking money, that's the end of that discussion
Fuck her from the back, I hit that bitch until she cumming
Aye, woah, paparazzi, fans get to runnin'
Rockstar jump into the crowd, now they jumping
.23 up in my Glock, jumpman, jumpman, jumpman
You ain't making money, no, you just make assumptions
Put my dick all in her jaw
Break her back, just like the law
This some real n***a business, so these fake n***as can't get involved
All I do is problem-solve, all I do is count it up
Leave him leaking - aquaducts
Shoot him in the stomach 'til he had enough
[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my draws
That bitch know that I'm a boss
I'ma catch like Randy Moss, ayy
I ain't ever off, yeah
All I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, 'cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks up, racks up
I don't fuck with nobody I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf
Boy that shit dead, like Nate Dogg
Say you want beef trouble, like Steak Sauce
Migos in the trap, like Takeoff
Big guns, they'll take yo' face off
Can't see these fuck-n***as like Ray Charles, yeah