[Intro: Juice WRLD & Henry Dean]
Ay, let's see if you can do that
What?
I'm just gon' pull out objects and see if you can rap about them
(Hit-Boy)

[Verse: Juice WRLD & Henry Dean]
You know that is my time, ho (Yeah)
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 n***as 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 n***as I'm hotter
All my n***as got shit like varietal
I see all of this shit like horizon
All my n***as get money for real, though
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 though
N***as know what it is, what it is ho
Pull up on the scene look like big cloak
It was a green lighter, that wasn't a Bic, though
I smoke big gas, I smoke big blunts
Talkin' that shit n***a 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, n***a 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
[Outro: Juice WRLD, Henry Dean, & Chris Long]
Did you get all that shit? (Yeah)
Yo, you gotta- you gotta post that shit tomorrow, bro
That shit was legendary (That was cool)
That's the best shit we did all day
Juice
(Hit-Boy)