Juice WRLD
Days Going By
[Intro]
(Southside on the track, yeah)
Smokin' cookie crisp, huh, stupid bitch

[Verse 1]
Let my girlfriend hold the strap n***a, no dike
Doin drive-bys at night, n***a no lights
Hatin on me, fuck n***a got no life
Grew up with n***as thats locked up for life
Slowed down on the percs something don't feel right
Hi-Tech red that shit slime real right
I free-style that shit they will write
He on the corner, stop at the redlight
Talkin drunk, n***a no budlight
He on the gram flexin with fake dice
I'mma keep going no time for a hook
They stealin the drip, no time for a crook
Your bitch get picked up, then I get licked up, we in a fisker
Movin to cali, LA to Vista
She want a mister, I want her sister, she real crazy
Someone come roll backwoods I'll pay
Someone talk down on my name I'll slay
Imma test out my new gun like yeah
Spend two bands get my bitch red hair
Pull on up a fuck n***a yeah right there
He location shared
On the way with sticks right now, we ain't never cared
[Chorus]
Uhh, uhhh, she look at me like im a young god
Allah, thank god, gave me the talent now a n***a go hard
We in yo yard, you ain't here then we in your bro yard
Make it clear, boolin in the front lawn
We know you here, ay ayy ayy
Turn your coat red, paul revere

[Verse 2]
Run up the money and run out of fears
Codeine cups we having cheers
Whats her name all on my phone, I haven't talked to this bitch in some years
Yeah they all write back when the money comin in
They want givenchi the way i got it, n***a how much are you willin to spend, yea

Talk my shit and back it
Rockstar from the trap, yeah
Run from the cops in my raf, yeah
They gon feel my wrath, yeah
Im pouring up into a sprite or crush, maybe a hi-c , maybe a faygo
Call it ironic, cause all my demons be ready to get some of these fuck n***as halos
Woah, imma let it breathe, breathe let it die slow
I'm your greatest enemy, eazy e, fuck the police
They won't let none of my n***as home
Woah, imma let it breathe, breathe let it die slow
I'm your greatest enemy, eazy e, fuck the police
[Post Chorus]
Uhh, uhhh, she look at me like im a young god
Allah, thank god, gave me the talent now a n***a go hard
We in yo yard, you ain't here then we in your bro yard
Make it clear, boolin in the front lawn
We know you here, ay ayy ayy
Turn your coat red, ayy ayy ayy, paul revere