Object Freestyle (No Jumper: 21 Minute Freestyle) lyrics

[Intro: Juice WRLD & Henry Dean]
Ay, 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 dap on 'em
You know, we stay smoking on that indo
That Travis Scott antidote
Like don't go through the front door
Pouring up Pinot Grigio
f*ckin' your b*tch, she a sleazy ho
I'm sick of her get to sneezing on 'em, huh, yeah
I'm sick of her get to sneezing on 'em
I pull up on that Fanta and that Sprite
So I told that Pepsi to leave me 'lone
All I know is get the money, uh
Look at my jacket, it's Vlone
Look at your b*tch listening to Lucid Dreams
I know that sh*t is her theme song
I control that b*tch like a remote
Run up on me, then I'm down to blow
All of my n*ggas they grippin' poles
Illuminati wit' it, 'cause I take her soul, yeah
I go harder
Get her wetter than bottles of water
Talking stupid, I'll pull up on him in that ghost
Like I may just pull up in a charger
I'ma die for my sh*t like a martyr
I'ma die for my sh*t like a martyr
Talking sh*t 'til I pull up on you wit' that hat
You can't see my dreads, n*gga I'm hidin'
All my n*ggas got sh*t like Verizon
I see all of this sh*t like horizon
All my n*ggas get money for real, though
In my kitchen I'm movin' them pills, ho
Hopefully this sh*t hit home
f*cking that b*tch like "Let's go"
Hit that b*tch on my cell phone
I won't f*ck she on her menstrual
I murder these instrumentals
I'ma hit that b*tch with a backstroke
I'ma hit that b*tch from the back
More sh*t than a high note, you know how it is, ho
Every day I wake up lit though
n*ggas know what it is, what it is, ho
Pull up on the scene lit like Bic, ho
That was a green lighter, that wasn't a Bic, though
I smoke big gas, I smoke big blunts
Talkin' that sh*t, n*gga you ain't on nothin'
Look at your bank, I just see 20s
I got hunnids, 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 f*ck
Pull up on the block and I'll make them c*m, yeah
I make this sh*t look simple
We poppin' like proactive and a bunch of f*cking pimples
I pull up in that b*tch I'm past high
She my computer, my di*k is that b*tch flash drive
I get the cash, n*gga you know I'm too fly
Your b*tch f*ckin' my b*tch
In the end she too bi
You know I don't box but I plug in like the box
You talkin' stupid 'til you catch a shot about this Glock
Your b*tch up on my c*ck
I told that b*tch to stop and watch
And all I do is get cash, I relax, and plot
Just turn me up a notch, I wake up smoking 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 designer's a bit confused, so I need to stop it, I just cop it
Feel like Drake, I start from the bottom
I get long neck from your b*tch, she an ostrich
Hopefully, it's not a problem
I make it look easy for real
I told you that, 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 rolling 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 sh*t? (Yeah)
Yo, you gotta- you gotta post that sh*t tomorrow, bro
That sh*t was legendary (That was cool)
That's the best sh*t we did all-day
Juice
(Hit-Boy)