Pop It lyrics

[Intro: Juice WRLD]
Set up shop
If  the score's down then we gon' shop for opps
Watch  the clock, I'm coming for y'all
Are you ready or not?
Hit-Boy
Check  the charts (Oh)
Boutta  break these n*ggas hearts (Oh)
You wanna play some cards? (Oh)
This  is the ace of hearts (Oh)
Check the charts (Oh)
I'm finna break these n*ggas hearts, hearts (Oh)
You wanna play some cards? (Oh)
This  is the ace of hearts (Oh)
Money in my hand (Oh)
I- (Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh)
Yeah (Yeah)
Hop out [?]

[Chorus: Juice WRLD]
Hop out, pop it (Yeah)
f*ck your problem (Oh, yeah)
f*ck your posse (Oh, yeah)
You don't want no problem (Want no problem)
Hop out, pop it (Huh, pop it)
f*ck your posse (f*ck your posse)
I'm off the Perkys with n*ggas (Perkys)
f*ck your molly (f*ck your molly)
I'm in Atlanta with Dracos
Talkin' that sh*t, get a halo
Got your b*tch and she gone off the Henno'
She a drinker she on her alcoholic mind, we know
With Swervo we gettin' the bankrolls
Off the Percs while you keeping a dank roll
I don't smoke while I pour my lean
Herb, is it possible to pour up Posto?
[Verse 1: Juice WRLD]
There's a couple dead n*ggas I know
They grave got p*ssed on by my kinfolk
Chicago getting too disrespectful
Ten thousand, that's on a pea coat
Help me hold the drum, it isn't a reload
Beat on your chest, like you talking to King Kong
That's if you get in the way of these bankrolls (Woah, oh, oh)

[Interlude: Juice WRLD & G Herbo]
Right, okay, alright, alright, okay, alright
Hey Swervo, I'm sick of talking to these n*ggas I don't think they getting the message like
You probably gonna have to just hop on this b*tch and just, you know, make it clear for these dumbasses
Yeah
It's like man, I'm a rich ass n*gga from Chicago
Of course bro
n*ggas don't be making it out
n*ggas don't even know me for real man
That sad boy sh*t don't mean sh*t
Uh, look

[Verse 2: G Herbo]
Swerv' pop out with that Glock out (Swerv')
You already know how I rock out (b*tch)
I get my enemies chopped dead
Then ride like Suge with the top down (Uh)
And I don't f*ck four seven (Uh-uh)
But I got this b*tch on lock down (Uh-huh)
Air you dead on the opps that took Roc down
Foenem pullin' up finna pop now (Skrr)
Once the body drop, we won't stop now
I gotta hit the road, I'm outta town
[?] hit your mans, say "I got M's"
'Til I catch him outta bounds, oh I got him now
And I used to trap before I got an album
Me and bro switched shifts, so I got an hour
Goin' brazy on this rap sh*t, got 'em sour
b*tch I feel like [?], I got the power
b*tch I don't got no snap, I don't got no apps
On Cap ain't none of that bap, b*tch
I got arrested in February yeah, but that b*tch still on my lap
Always safe, don't care if they book me anywhere (Uh-huh)
I could describe them shootouts play by play, 'cause I was really there
FaceTime Mike Amiri, I point out any pair
Told G-Money I misplaced the guala, and he ain't even really care
We blow that money we chase together and we gon' chase forever, misplace whatever
Talk about Ks, Berettas, hit his face whenever
[Chorus: Juice WRLD]
Hop out, pop it (Grah)
f*ck your problem
f*ck your posse
You don't want no problem
Hop out, pop it
f*ck your posse
I'm off the Perkys with n*ggas
f*ck your molly
I'm in Atlanta with Dracos
Talkin' that sh*t, get a halo
Got your b*tch and she gone off the Henno'
She a drinker she on her alcoholic mind, we know
With Swervo we gettin' the bankrolls
Off the Percs while you keeping a dank roll
I don't smoke while I pour my lean
Herb, is it possible to pour up Posto?