Speed Demon (90210) [Studio Session] lyrics

Lyrics from Snippets

[Verse]
...mad n*gga
Pour that sh*t 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*ggas 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*ggas [?]
n*ggas just think that they [?]
You still live in that Toyota, I'm in a stratus
I'm in the Lambo, you drivin' a stratus
b*tch I'm out the universe, you stratus
Fеar n*ggas think they-
[...]
You can't f*ck with me
First AP cost a buck .50
Second AP cost likе 250
30 pop, f*ck that, I need two titties
Pull up on the scene, I'm gon' get busy
n*ggas, they can't f*ck with me
Hoes, they be Velcro after I f*cked them b*tches, 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*ggas 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 b*tches lookin' at me crookedly
Lookin' at my new girl like they could've been me
b*tch, it could've been we
Nah, b*tch, you weak, huh
Nah, b*tch 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
b*tches try to store it
You ain't ballin', b*tch, get the f*ck 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 f*ck the b*tch I cook out, lil pus*y feel like porridge
I don't eat it but I [?] just like porridge
[...]
n*gga I'm a murderer on every beat I hop on
RIP to all my n*ggas 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 f*cking song
b*tches 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
f*ck the world here's my middle finger
n*gga you a joke, bank account a zinga'
Choppa' get to singing like that b*tch 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*gga get the bubble guts
Smoke them n*ggas that's a double Dutch
Never gave no sh*t, never gave no f*ck
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 f*cking with me, just like future, I'm being honest
b*tch I flow without trying
I feel like an auto pilot
My gun a librarian when I up it, b*tch it got the silence
You can't f*ck with us
b*tch 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 f*ck n*ggas on?
[...]