Demons lyrics

[Chorus: Pop Smoke]
I got fifty-two shots in this Glock, bet a n*gga won't let up (Woo)
XD, a n*gga tottin', Beretta (Red dot)
Rufflin feathers (Don't get shot)
I leave him deader
I got your b*tch suckin' on my treasure
I woo from the floss, yeah, we do it better
I got the hoes like I'm Hugh Hefner
b*tch, I'm a dog, I'm a blue devil
One dead in Neiman, scannin', it's readin'
Perc' head, I'm geekin', sh*t turn me to a demon (Demon)
Bad b*tch named RiRi, nice, but treeshy
She want me to breed her, I'm like "Nah, b*tch, you sneaky"

[Verse 1: Juice WRLD]
Damn, hundred round drum on me, no reload
BAPE on my cape, no hero
VVS cold, subzero
Off the molly, getting lost like Nemo
Steal bike, pull off like Deebo
Up, down, left, right, that's a cheat code
Up, down, left, right, that's a cheat code
Up, down, left, right, that's a cheat code, uh
Yeah, insurance, no Geico, uh
Swim in the pus*y feel like Micheal, uh
I do not f*ck with disciples, uh
I could put that sh*t on the bible, uh
Big ass riffle, Eiffel, uh
Tower sh*t, no Eiffel, uh
Huh, my gun a football player
I load that b*tch, it tackle ya, uh
Bad b*tch on my di*k, she wanna f*ck for free, hmm
I got the clout, cash, cash
So she be f*ckin' on me, uh
Vacuum ho, way that she suckin' on me, uh, yeah
Pretty life, but these b*tches be so ugly, uh, yeah
[Verse 2: Lil Uzi Vert]
My paint is so wet, it's so clean put some soap in it
I'll make you lean, but you ain't drinkin' no Fanta
Walk off the scene with a sawed off with no handle (Woah)
Gucci my seam and my pocket got four nanas'
Okay, she gave me the pus*y, I float in it
Okay she do not like root beer, got Coke in it (Woah)
Okay, her skin is so smooth 'cause she lotion it
Grra-kada-boom, lil b*tch, I'm totin' it (Grra)
B.B. on me so I felt like I'm Satana
Only thing Burberry probably my bandana
Audemar P, so I cannot damn stand it
How I feel 'bout the Xans same way I feel 'bout a ham sandwich
f*ck them girls together, make 'em just can-can it
Them girls is nasty, enjoyed every damn minute
Ball on a portable court with the sand in it
Everything clear in the port when I land in it

[Chorus: Pop Smoke]
I got fifty-two shots in this Glock, bet a n*gga won't let up (Woo)
XD, a n*gga tottin', Beretta (Red dot)
Rufflin feathers (Don't get shot)
I leave him deader
I got your b*tch suckin' on my treasure
I woo from the floss, yeah, we do it better
I got the hoes like I'm Hugh Hefner
b*tch, I'm a dog, I'm a blue devil
One dead in Neiman, scannin', it's readin'
Perc' head, I'm geekin', sh*t turn me to a demon (Demon)
Bad b*tch named RiRi, nice, but treeshy
She want me to breed her, I'm like "Nah, b*tch, you sneaky"
[Verse 3: XXXTENTACION]
Huh
"Is that the wrong hole?!" No it isn't b*tch you trippin' (Yuh)
b*tch, I'm Post Malone with that di*k, yes that extension (Yuh)
Hoe just hit my line, asked if my rap name is "X-tension" (Yuh)
No, it's X-X-X, you will catch my di*k in your mentions, ayy
Grind on my c*ck, Tony Hawk
Mmh, Yuh, Ayy
Hide my di*k and hit the female prison servin' c*ck, ayy
This di*k costs a band so if you touch you will be shot, ayy
(This, this)
This di*k costs a band so if you touch you will be shot, ayy