Music Video

Juice WRLD - Blood On My Jeans (Official Audio)
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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Juice WRLD
Juice WRLD
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Max Lord
Max Lord
Songwriter
Arian Vuica
Arian Vuica
Songwriter
Filip Gezin
Filip Gezin
Songwriter
Jarad Higgins
Jarad Higgins
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Max Lord
Max Lord
Producer
Strapazoot
Strapazoot
Producer
Chris Galland
Chris Galland
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Jeremie Inhaber
Jeremie Inhaber
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Manny Marroquin
Manny Marroquin
Mixing Engineer
Robin Florent
Robin Florent
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Tatsuya Sato
Tatsuya Sato
Mastering Engineer
Filip Gezin
Filip Gezin
Producer

Lyrics

Damn, I tried to stop, oh Baby (808 Mafia), baby (baby), baby (baby), babe You literally are my everything (baby, Gezin) Hah (baby) Baby, I've been on the run (yeah) But I would never run from your love (uh-uh) If you feel on my dick, there's a gun (uh-huh) Not right there, just a little above I value my relationship, it's forever But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah) Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah) Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah) Huh, lean, huh Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah) I ain't leave a clue on the scene (uh-uh) Close range, so I got blood on my jeans (uh) Saints Row cup, ain't no red in my lean (uh-uh) Bankrolled up, I been swimmin' in green (uh-huh) Still a blue face king Benjamin Franklin come dirty and clean (let's go) I know my haters hate to see me succeed If they get the chance, they'll end up murderin' me That shit got me laughin', haha Kel-Tec get to rappin', grrah, grrah Fuck nigga, I'm your father Don't matter if you older They say age is just a number If that's the case, I'm way over Than who? These niggas (uh-huh) And these bitches that think that they get it (uh-huh) For a backstage pass, she'll suck the dick (uh-huh) Bitch, I got a bitch, better get you a ticket (uh-huh) Walk through the night with my gun like a creep On my shirt Maison Martin, my shoes double-C I don't know what it's gonna take you to believe I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you (ayy, ayy, ayy) I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you You stuck with me, apologies for my fuckery Baby, I've been on the run But I would never run from your love If you feel on my dick, there's a gun Not right there, just a little above I value my relationship, it's forever But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah) Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah) Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah) Huh, lean, huh Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah) I ain't leave a clue on the scene Close range, so I got blood on my jeans
Writer(s): Jarad Higgins, Filip Gezin Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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