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Juice WRLD – 67 Lyrics

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[Intro]
Bitch it’s on
Hit-Boy 
I  make it look easy in these on
I make it look easy in [?]
[?]
I got all this green like I was farming
She  call me the army leader, Sargent
[?]
I  got all this green like I was what

[Verse]
I got all this green like I was farming
I’m  the army leader I’m the Sargent
I need yellow bones on that Mars shit
I’m not from this planet I’m a martian
I ain’t getting drunk but I got bars, yeah
Servin’  rounds like you at a bar, yeah
My gun sing I feel like Barbra Streisand
Cowboy this revolver in my left hand
Married to this money
Holy matrimony
He think that he real
Your boyfriend a phony
Turn his face to pieces choppa make him pepperoni
I’m the type to pull up then I flex my fucking Rollie
AP on my wrist but it get deeper
I go back to school just to shit and then fuck on the bad teachers
Give a fuck about you prolly getting head behind the god damn bleachers
You don’t fuck with me that’s cool ’cause I don’t fuck with me either
I’m hot just caught a fever she scream “Oh baby” just like Justin Bieber
I pull up on the scene bring the house down like I’m Queen Latifah
You could try me if you want you can get smoke like Wiz no Khalifa
And I don’t even smoke reefer, nigga I don’t even smoke reefer
Yeah, but keep them Percs coming
If I go broke back to the trap just keep that work coming
I’m praying every day but I don’t go to church for nothing
You know that the pastor be fronting, he think he be talkin’ ’bout some-
That nigga probably fucking your mommy
If I’m being honest, shit I ain’t just talking
Nigga I don’t talk it I walk it
And I don’t do shit without office
I told you my nigga I’m awfully awesome
I probably got Powers like Austin
Pull up to your park man I leave a bomb like the marathon running in Boston
Look what I did, baby, see it
She hold up my kid, Home Alone
I’m in your crib, but this ain’t two people chasing a white kid
Glizzy on me
I get busy I get jiggy I get jiggy on it
I can’t hear, what you saying, why you go Iggy on me
I can’t hear, what you saying, why you go Iggy on me
Pockets, bands, choppa from Afghanistan
50 Cent said it best
Many men wishing death
And I don’t got time for it, I just got Tom Ford
I don’t even got change for these hoes you can have a dime boy
I feel like Kobe in the fourth I ain’t passing no dimes boy
I’m ’bout mine with the gun it sing like it’s Cece Winans boy
Listen to how I spaz on they ass, leave a nigga like maxi pad
Its me and Max Lord in the studio counting up all these racks
I used to fuck with the Xans, now it’s Percs in my hand
I used to fuck with the work now I got no work in my hand
Nigga you know where we stand
Boy your bitch is a stan
If I fall in love then I’m gon’ turn into Stan
If she leave me I’m driving off of that bridge
Keep that I’ma do one more take

[Instrumental Break]