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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Juice WRLD
Juice WRLD
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Max Lord
Max Lord
Songwriter
Jarad Higgins
Jarad Higgins
Songwriter
Filip Gezin
Filip Gezin
Songwriter
Nedim Melkic
Nedim Melkic
Songwriter
Nils Noehden
Nils Noehden
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Max Lord
Max Lord
Recording Engineer
Colin Leonard
Colin Leonard
Mastering Engineer
Gezin
Gezin
Producer
Nils
Nils
Producer

Lyrics

808 Mafia (oh, oh, oh) 9, oh, 9 this time (I'ma say this one time, one time only) Water, wouldn't understand ('Cause Ski with me in this bitch, you know? Gang shit) What you don't understand 'bout me is (yeah, what?) I never gave a fuck about a goddamn thing (what? Yeah) I wake up in the morning, do my goddamn thing, I- (oh-oh) Huh, what you don't understand 'bout me is (uh-huh) I never gave a fuck about a goddamn thing (uh-huh) I wake up in the morning, do my goddamn thing (woah) I pop, I sip, I pour up lean, I I'm lost in my abyss (uh-huh) Wake up, all I see is black, a solar eclipse (uh-huh) All I know is guns and sex, load up the clip (uh-huh) Told your bitch to get on her knees And suck the dick right (freak ho, yeah, yeah) I'ma live my life like it's my last days Don't believe in slow, I'm moving fast-paced Ain't no Tom and Jerry 'round here, ain't no Rat Race This is an outrage (this is an outrage) I ain't sleep in like six days (I ain't sleep in like six days) Poppin' Percs, I can't think straight (I can't think straight) I still run it like a relay, relay (run it, run it) What you don't understand 'bout me is I never gave a fuck about a goddamn thing I wake up in the morning, do my goddamn thing I pop, I sip, I pour up lean, I- I break the pill into minerals (what else?) Then I put it in my cereal, uh (what else?) They look at me as a criminal (what else?) Hate on the kid 'cause this shit gettin' critical (ya dig?) You got a Lambo' truck, it's rented though (ya dig?) Look at my car, you can't, it's tinted, ho (ya dig?) Bad bitch in the back seat, got ten of those (ya dig?) Hit her like a dance, gigolo-gigolo (ya dig?) I got 'em puzzled, just like a riddle (uh) Freestyle shit, I don't ever spit writtens (uh) Beat up the pussy, I don't fuck with the kitten (shh) .30 clip hanging out the black-ass Smith & - (shh) Catch me listening to John Lennon (ayy) With your bitch in Versace linens (ayy, bitch) Or maybe Ozzy, or maybe Billy Idol That's one of my idols living (on God) I'm in the party, I don't really need no posse I'm booling with 150 (on God) That's my shawty, finna get the boy name Tatt'ed all over her titties (on God) Remember hood rocks and stealing food out of Hibachi Wouldn't catch me tipping (on God) Brand new shotty, 12-gauge on that body Don't let me catch you slipping What you don't understand 'bout me is I never gave a fuck about a goddamn thing I wake up in the morning, do my goddamn thing I pop, I sip, I pour up lean, I- I pour my lean up, oh Yeah, maybe I should try water, huh Water
Writer(s): Shane Lindstrom, Jarad A. Higgins, Jamell Demons, Filip Gezin, Max Adam Lord, Nils Noehden, Nedim Melkic Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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