[Intro: Juice WRLD & Henry Dean]
Ayy, 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 dab on 'em
You know, we stay smokin' on that indo'
That Travis Scott antidote
But don't call me a rodeo
Pourin' up Pinot Grigio
Fuckin' your bitch, she a sleazy ho
I'm sick of her, get to sneezin' on her
Huh, yeah
I'm sick of her, get to sneezin' on her
I pour up in that Fanta and that Sprite
So, I took that Pepsi to leave me 'lone
All of them wish they got the money on
Look at my jacket, it's VLONE
Look at your bitch listenin' to "Lucid Dreams"
I know that shit is her theme song
I control that bitch likе a remote
Run up on me, thеn 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 I may just pull up in a Challenger
I'ma die for my shit like a martyr
I'ma die for my shit like a martyr
Talkin' shit 'til I pull up on you wit' that handy pack
Seen martyrs? N***a, I'm hotter
All my n***as got shit like Verizon
I see all of this shit like a horizon
All my n***as get money for real, though
In my kitchen, I'm rollin' off pills, ho
Hopefully, this shit hit home
Fuckin' 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 though, 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 Smoke
It was a green lighter, that wasn't a Bic, though
I smoke big gas, I smoke big blunts
Talkin' that shit, n***a, waitin' on nothin'
Look at your bank, I just see 20s
I got hunnids and 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 fuckin' 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 that, I don't box
But I'm fuckin' like the box
You talkin' stupid 'til you catch a shot up 'bout 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 smokin' 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 designers has me confused
So, I need to stop it, I just cop it
Feel like Drake, I started from the bottom
I get long neck from yo' bitch, she a ostrich
Hopefully, that's not a problem
Huh, haha
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 rollin' 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)
Dawg, yo, you gotta—, you gotta post that shit tomorrow, bro
That shit was legendary
That's the best shit we did all day, Juice
(Hit-Boy)