Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Juice WRLD
Juice WRLD
Vocals
Cordae
Cordae
Vocals
Eminem
Eminem
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jarad Higgins
Jarad Higgins
Lyrics
Melvin Charles Bradford
Melvin Charles Bradford
Composer
Marshall Mathers
Marshall Mathers
Composer
Andre Romell Young
Andre Romell Young
Composer
Cordae Dunston
Cordae Dunston
Lyrics
Max Lord
Max Lord
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Max Lord
Max Lord
Recording Engineer
Cole Bennett
Cole Bennett
Producer
marvy ayy
marvy ayy
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Uh-huh, yeah-yeah Juice is eating a, uh, ice cream With, uh, lots of caramel (bitch) I just had a ice cream sandwich, M&Ms On a Eminem beat, ironically Yeah-yeah, three years Uh, uh, okay I'm the type to come in the game and just launch pain With a bronze frame and a tattoo of my mom's name This industry has nothing to offer beyond fame Time to take these niggas to school, LeBron James Lesson one, I'm a bad teacher who gave the class seizures Smash divas, stash reefer in the lab freezer I found the reefer Cordae stashed in the back of the lab So I'm in class, smokin' gas, slappin' the class preacher Bring the house down on you hoes, Queen Latifah I'm too fast, gettin' this cash Get in the way, get your brain bashed Chopper gon' smash, hittin' your face I'ma tie up, just like a shoe, my flow laced Y'all niggas so fake, wash your face in my showcase Fresher than Colgate, make hoes wait, I hold weight Bottle of Rosé in the Rolls, drivin' with road rage For ten days, off Xans, just tryna get paid And since the sixth grade I been great, no sensei My rent paid for ten days 'cause my pen's great I smoke ten Js with two hoes that go both ways Funny how two plus two equals foreplay Speakin' of foreplay, had this shit in the hallway with A nun on Sunday, I guess I'm just too blessed (whoa, ayy) Me and my nigga Juice WRLD takin' over the Universe You knew it first, got my mom Chanel with the newest purse Birkin bag, never hurt to ask, "What type of purse is that?" Something that's very fuckin' expensive, I deserve to brag I murder tracks, this isn't mumble, it's murder rap Type of shit your grandma understand with her old ass Spend a half a million, then go back and make some more cash The hair trigger Brazilian, you would get your whole hood waxed See, what you know about my life and my troubled past? Took the shuttle pass, hit the mall, I got double cash, copped the duffle bag Ten bands on my fuckin' ass, that's a subtle brag Hi Level, we be makin' moves, hit the huddle fast, ah Break the huddle, get a sack, that's a fumble on the play Not in my house, he look like Mutombo in the face Leave him spinnin' like a funnel cloud with lightning and some thunder Like the Wizard of O-Z, the way we carry him away (uh) Carry him, then bury him, barbarian Beef with anybody, even if you vegetarian My flow on ebola, your flow just need Claritin Runnin' laps 'round these chaps, it's embarrassin'
Writer(s): Andre Romell Young, Melvin Charles Bradford, Marshall B. Mathers Iii Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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