Chris Lanard - juice, pt. 2

I ain't your average
Why they be laughing
And if you rolling one
Go head and pass it
Heard they be trolling they really be gassing
Know I'm the realist you boys made of plastic
Kill at showtime got'em callin' me magic
Outta wedlock so I'm really a bastard
Know I'm alive like I Jumped out the casket
She got that water I never be lasting
Yea I'm in Control like I got a controlla
She treat me like a king
Ain't no need to control her
Gang at ya neck like we rocking a bow tie
I gave her double takes no John travolta
Put her on the team cuz she want me to coach her
And if I put in work she gon give me the chocha
I wake up to the box like a cup of Folgers
Then I chunk up the deuce it was nice to know ya
I know I make my haters sick
I pull up on'em
I'm checking they temp
Say you got her you really a temp
I Shoot my shot you didn't even attempt
That ain't yo chick but you paying her rent
She said you could swim you decided to skip
She talk back to you
She don't give me no lip
I fly her so she never gon trip
If I give her a bag
She gon make a flip
Got her covered in ice so she never slip
She the Lois lane to my Clark Kent
In the slow lane with the dark tints
Ex so lame y'all was not meant
Talk in code names
Call me locksmith
Gotta low flame y'all not lit
If I ain't got the juice then who got it
Touch me and the gang sending rockets
All this pape be coming in but who gon count it
Heard they say you got the sauce
I highly doubt it
I ain't your average why they be laughing
I already did that
I got so much juice got a give back
Ever cross me you can never switch back
All about chicken I can't sit and kick back
I be so lit even when it go pitch black
I snatched her up now he can't get his chick back
You don't get money you only get chip bags
Now they calling you the runner up Club jumping like it's double Dutch
In the lab cooking watch it bubble up Shorty more strapped than when you buckle up
I be swimming in it like a rubber duck Then it's back to it I can't cuddle up
Gotta make a play need to huddle up Bought her 2 chainz and a bubble butt Listen up one thing I know is to get it up
We the last of a Breed we gon live it up
They be loving this juice they can't get enough
Uh tellem I'm back in my mode yea Tellem we back on the road woah
I'm never back in the cold
I'm only backing the code
Reach in the fridge and can't find the juice
They know I might've drunk it all a time or two
I might a even got drunk hit a dime or two
I'm just gon gon change my name to Bartholomew
No you ain't got it like me boy I promise you
Oversee everything you got a common view
Stand up guy I'm not talking bout comic view
My homies been pulling up with all kinda tools
If I ain't got the juice then who got it
Touch me and the gang sending rockets
All this pape be coming in but who gon count it
Heard they say you got the sauce
I highly doubt it

Written by:
Christopher Stanley

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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