Текст Juice WRLD – Z Nation

Why you callin’ my phone on that lame shit? Tryna hang, shit
You was hatin’ on us now you sayin’ you was gang, shit
Who you think you playin’? You must be brazy
You could go that way, with all the fakin’

Phantom like a spaceship
Niggas beefin’ over the same bitch, I could never get with it
I was on that new shit, countin’ up the blue chips, spend it all in Ruth’s Chris
Watch me make it all back
Throw that ass back, yeah
Baby just like that, yeah
That bitch like coke, yeah, her mama like crack, yeah
Servin’ to her mom, had to take a cooking class
Counting up the blue face, they said I wasn’t good at math
Shoot a pussy nigga in his shit he need a Maxi Pad
I think that I want a Xan, where’s Max at?
Oh, we in the studio countin’ up big racks blowin’ on big thrax
Feel like Coolio dreads, yeah, with the naps, yeah
They was sleeping on my rap career, they would nap, yeah
Now I feel like I’m the best to ever do it
On this bitch with Metro if he don’t trust you I’ma shoot you

Why you callin’ my phone on that lame shit? Tryna hang, shit
You was hatin’ on us now you sayin’ you was gang, shit
Who you think you playin’? You must be brazy
You could go that way, with all the fakin’
Lean sippin’ got my heart race, slow pacin’
Crack rock got yo aunty freebasin’

No new friends, no new friends, Drake shit
I don’t got time for that fake shit
Lawn mower through the grass so I can see the snakes, yeah
I always been good at that, .40 in the Fendi bag
You know I can’t go for that
Day ones changed sides they some hoes for that
Flex up on they ass, I got dough for that now
And break bread with the ones that held me down (Yeah)
I love it when the vibe’s right
I been gettin’ too high
Coolin’ with the same gang
We don’t believe in new guys
Yeah, yeah, the vibe’s right
I been gettin’ too high
Coolin’ with the same gang
We don’t believe in new guys

Why you callin’ my phone on that lame shit? Tryna hang, shit
You was hatin’ on us now you sayin’ you was gang, shit
Who you think you playin’? You must be brazy
You could go that way, with all the fakin’
Lean sippin’ got my heart race, slow pacin’
Crack rock got yo aunty freebasin’
.40 put you on the concrete, creamation
Drugs turn me to a zombie, Z Nation