Murder Rate Freestyle 4 Lyrics – Juice WRLD

[Verse]

B!tch, I don’t walk it, I run it

I ball like the OKC Thunder

These b!tches be coming, I fu*k ’em until they be cumming

Run up on me, choppa drumming, it ain’t about nothing

I’m too busy making money, these n!ggas, they making assumptions

I know how they coming

N!ggas talk stupid until I pull up and s*it on ’em, n!ggas need a toilet plunger

That’s for real

In the kitchen, whipping up a meal

After that, I’ll prolly pop a pill

Pop a pill, then I cop a feel from your b!tch, prolly eat me a Happy Meal

N!ggas still selling they soul for a million dollars, that’s a crappy deal

So when God come back, you gon’ be burning money up in hell

I don’t got time for it, only Tom Ford, n!gga, yeah, I dress well

Got a bad b!tch and she too bad, so bad, man, Jezebel

Knock ’em out, b!tch, Holyfield

Hot as fu*k, but I’m high as hell, guess I’m hot like

Holyalle

B!tch, I’m sipping lean, Holy Grail

They want smoke, I’ma give it to ’em

All these n!ggas gon’ be pushing daisies, at they funerals throwing tulips

She gon’ put my d!ck on her two lips

I’ma shoot in that b!tch like Tyler Ulis

I’ma fu*k on that b!tch for a minute, then pass her to brodie ’cause I know she choosing

Give a fu*k ’bout the s*it that you doing

Paul Wall, how I chop her and screw her

Library book, if I want it, I hit again, I might go fix and renew her

I get the money, I spend it on me and I hustle, I know that blew her

But fu*k it, I don’t give a fu*k, she ain’t my girl, so s*it, whatever