Baller of the Year (Freestyle) lyrics

by

Juice WRLD


[Verse 1]
Wockhardt sip, uh
I take sip, uh
Suck my di*k, uh
.50 clip, .30 clip, make it spit, uh, huh
I hit that lil' b*tch just like a lick, uh, huh
Told her to get on her knees and come lick, uh, uh
Roll on a b*tch like a motherf*ckin' pig, uh, huh
I'm in the cut; gun, it's a stick up
Brand new choppa, uh
You don't want problems, uh
Roll 'em goblins, uh
Know how we mobbin', uh
Used to rock them Robins, uh
Now I rock a Givenchy, uh
Put em' straight in the coffin', uh
Sippin' Codeine no coughing, uh
b*tch, I do it to often, uh
I be dead, b*tch I'm bossin', uh
Like Osama Bin Laden, uh
I feel like I'm a terrorist, n*ggas [?], uh, uh, uh
Pull up on him and make that n*gga embarrassed enough, uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah
Sippin' that sip, f*cking yo' b*tch, loading my clip up
Ball like Kobe, maybe Michael, have a pick-up
He on the ground, shoot him down, he need to get up
Shoot him in his face, forehead brown, he can't get up, uh, ayy
b*tch I feel like James Bond, 007, huh
Triple 9, but if I flip that sh*t, go call your reverend, ayy
Ballin' out, I'm switching in my adolescence
R.I.P my fallen ones, you lookin' down from heaven, uh, uh
n*ggas' Microsoft, huh, Windows 7, huh, uh
I ain't flirting, but my MAC got an 11, huh
Ha, ha, yeah, I just ate on that b*tch
Hahaha, yeah, huh
You can't f*ck with me, you is a f*ck n*gga, huh, uh
Every day I swear that I don't f*ck with em'
n*ggas funny than a b*tch, Chris Tuck n*ggas, uh, uh
Chopper on my hip, you fake f*ck-n*ggas, uh, uh
Pourin' that lean up, n*gga you know what?
n*gga, I show up, uh, I done blowed up
Me and wock, got the 'Tech, finna pour up
If you talk, it's on go, b*tch, I'm bolder, uh, ayy
Juice WRLD, I'm in two worlds
Ayy, f*cked one b*tch, I'ma go f*ck two girls
Go get your girl, f*ck it, now that's my girl
I just took your b*tch, she landed in Juice WRLD, ayy
b*tch I'm fly like AF1, huh, huh, huh, huh
VLONE, that my AF1's, huh, huh, huh
Shoutout Ski 'cause that's my Slump, huh, huh, yeah, huh
Choppa on me, kill a chump, uh, uh
I may go tear on that b*tch while I feel like a motherf*ckin' monk, uh, uh
I listen to Fallout Boy, I guess I'm just a motherf*ckin' punk, ugh
I listen to rock, I listen to jazz, I listen to pop, uh
I pop your b*tch, she pop that pus*y just like a trunk, huh (Boy)
I'm finna eat on this b*tch, mark my word
[Verse 2]
Perc' 30, another Perc' 30
I pray these Percs, workin'
I need the Perc' surgeon
I need me a Perc' preacher, so I can have me a Perc' sermon
n*ggas be talkin' sh*t but I don't hear 'em, they just vermin
f*cking yo' b*tch, I hit it
Off of the Xan, forget it
Baby, just give me a minute
I know that b*tch in her feelings
Lately my ex been trippin'
She found out my new b*tch is better than her and plus she with it, ha
She with it, she with it, uh
She give me the [?], you wit' it
I put a hole in yo' fitted, uh
Don't talk sh*t about the city, uh
n*gga, you not from the city, uh
So I ain't showing no pity, uh
I got a pretty b*tch, she look like she Ricky, shoot em' in the back, no Ricky, uh, uh
Transform in that—Camaro, Witwicky, uh, huh
Pull up like Jack Sparrow, robbing em' for their sh*t like, uh, huh
I need another b*tch, um
I hit another lick, um
I'm on that other sh*t, um
b*tch I'm a alien, off of the mothership
I f*ck— I f*ck more b*tches, then get some more money and that is because of it, uh
n*ggas sicker than them n*ggas f*cking they cousin, sh*t, huh
All I know is get this cash, run up, its bussin' b*tch, uh
I'm at your head, concussion, yeah
There really no discussion, yeah, uh
I call my gun pro-active, cause it'll get to bussin', yeah, uh
Get to poppin', yeah
Poppin' at yo' noggin, yeah
Remember I was robbin', tryna buy a pair of Robins, yeah
Used to be True Religion, true to my religion, yeah, yeah, yeah
Young n*gga, I was different, still whippin' in the kitchen, yeah, yeah, yeah
Brother, washin' some dishes, mama come down trippin', yeah, yeah, yeah
Mama, we ain't flipping, we over here cooking grits, yeah, yeah, yeah, uh
That was the excuse, it wasn't grits, it was crack
Used to sell it after school, uh, yeah
Don't believe me? Ask your aunt, she was a fool, uh
Used to get me top for—, uh, a rock or two, ha, yeah, yeah
That's true story, uh
I get some head from a hot 'cause she didn't wanna pay for the glory, uh
That sound kinda sick, I admit, I still did that sh*t, huh
Young and rich, don't give a sh*t, still young and ignorant, yeah, um, um
My brother was a trap king, king
My girl is a trap queen, queen
Turn this LA to the trap-ing, -ing
Beverly Hills is my trap-ing
I remember boolin' over east, east
With that .30 in that .40, I'm a beast, beast
I remember when them n*ggas was shootin' at me, me
I had to shoot back, like Kobe with that 3, -e (Boy)
Got that nini in that b*tch, really on pre-heat
No Chicago, but I'm ballin' like the Meanstreets
You Stevie Wonder to my sh*t, you could never see me
I'm reality, you a dream, you can never be me
Told her beat it, Michael Jackson, seen, like Toni Braxton
In the kitchen cookin', I'm just rappin' bout' that action
I know n*ggas really clappin' sh*t, and pistol packing
You need an Oscar from the way that y'all n*ggas be acting
On God, ha
[Verse 3]
(Boy)
(I just told Richie we rich)
I just told Richie to be rich, huh
I told a ho, "Suck a di*k," uh
Pull up on me, you get hit, um
I got my hand on the stick
Don't give a f*ck about sh*t, uh
Everyday I'm getting in, huh
Everyday I'm getting rich, uh
I might pull up on a Benz
Sippin' that Codeine, these n*ggas know me, these n*ggas ain't on sh*t, huh
Pull up on him, with a new gun, f*ck, all on red, uh
Pull up on him, with a new gun, f*ck his face with it, uh
I get cash, I get cash, baby I'm super rich, um
Freestyle all day
Free smoke, free smoke, uh
Your life is a gun range
Pull up on em' like Call Of Duty, got the Uzi, no gun game
I pull up like Call Of Duty, but it ain't no lag on me
I ball like 2k shawty, bounce on my balls, the two pay shorty
Kick, Push, Lupe, shorty, say she was on me like flu game, shorty
This n*ggas too lame, shorty
On God, hahaha
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