Hit-Boy
Speed Demon (90210) [Studio Session]
Lyrics from Snippets

[Verse]
...mad n***a
Pour that shit up, roll that pack with it
All I know is smoke these thraxs and get these stacks
I look in the future, make mistakes, I ain't lookin' back
These n***as from my past hit me up like, where you at?
Yeah, I see you on it, you getting money, you on the map
Remember back in high school, we used to kickin' in class
I'll smile and leave 'em on unread and I just give 'em a laugh
'Cause these n***as [?]
N***as just think that they [?]
You still live in that Toyota, I'm in a stratus
I'm in the Lambo, you drivin' a stratus
Bitch I'm out the universe, you stratus
Fеar n***as think they-
[...]
You can't fuck with me
First AP cost a buck .50
Second AP cost likе 250
30 pop, fuck that, I need two titties
Pull up on the scene, I'm gon' get busy
N***as, they can't fuck with me
Hoes, they be Velcro after I fucked them bitches, stuck with me
Off the lean and them Perkys, I feel great
Workin' out my problems, I'm in better shape, uh
I ain't boxin' with these n***as like a heavy weight, uh-huh
Choppa on my hip, you know it's down to spray, uh-huh
Pull up on scene on the ground, I leave 'em layed, uh-huh
Chip up on my shoulder like a bag of Lays, uh-huh
Juice WRLD just came from Chicago
Ain't no Mercy, but I still got a Murcielago
Money older than your damn grandfolks
Runnin' with the gun like I'm Rambo
Look at me, cops hatin' on the kid, throwing a book at me
Ex bitches lookin' at me crookedly
Lookin' at my new girl like they could've been me
Bitch, it could've been we
Nah, bitch, you weak, huh
Nah, bitch I ain't talkin' about you at all, I don't even speak
Nah, I'm talkin' about all the times I had yo' ass on leak
Nah, I'm talkin' about all the times all my songs tried to leak
Bitches try to store it
You ain't ballin', bitch, get the fuck up out of my court
I'm in the kitchen whippin', I don't even need a fork
I ball at everything to do, I don't believe in sports
My whole life is a basketball game, I'm Michael Jordan
I'm jumpin' from the free throw line, I get to sourin'
I fuck the bitch I cook out, lil pussy feel like porridge
I don't eat it but I [?] just like porridge
[...]
N***a I'm a murderer on every beat I hop on
RIP to all my n***as that done died I know they gone
But they still lookin down on me like, "Juice going strong"
Now I'm getting five times platinum on every fucking song
Bitches that used to hate me, now they love to sing along
Beat up on they chest like King Kong
Beat they ass on TV, TMZ like Jerry Springer
Fuck the world here's my middle finger
N***a you a joke, bank account a zinga'
Choppa' get to singing like that bitch a singer
Ain't no drama you can't Jerry Spring' us
Like a shot or something we gone pop up
Like a [?] we keep them Glocks tucked
Like you drunk or something [?] you throw up
Mom I'm sorry I fell victim to the pour up
I gotta' pour up til' I got purple guts
Smoke til' the n***a get the bubble guts
Smoke them n***as that's a double Dutch
Never gave no shit, never gave no fuck
She get on her knees just so I could live it up, that's ironic
Moving fast up in this booth I feel like super sonic
You ain't fucking with me, just like future, I'm being honest
Bitch I flow without trying
I feel like an auto pilot
My gun a librarian when I up it, bitch it got the silence
You can't fuck with us
Bitch I'm Mike Tyson with this one two, with this uppercut
Hit him in his stomach a couple times til' he ain't adding up
Thanksgiving with that glizzy load it up it got the stuff
I'm a dog
You want beef then we gon'
G-Money what these fuck n***as on?
[...]