Buck London - Juice Lyrics

All I knew was grind harder
London!

I'm with my bitch chasing a bag run up da racks
Im going mad f*ck dat bitch aint going out sad
I need about 1 mill 2 mill 3 mill I need da bands
I need that all red Ferrari with no roof
I got a bad bitch I call her my masseuse
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice

Remember nights I was in pain nigga
I made my way up stayed the same I walked through rain nigga
And now I'm blood stepping, dripping in sauce
I make a ounce go as fast as a Porsche man I just wanted to ball
Spent 20 racks on my wrist just to take away my pain
Got some young drillers with me they might just blow out your brains
We don't give a f*ck for fame we wants bands in our safe
It's a marathon it's never been a race I pray I never catch a case
I been a street nigga so many pagans cut da grass and keep that heat with us
I been a winner I could never meet defeat nigga
When I was broke I hustled up I found my nigga I found my feet nigga
Aint no love aint no love out here young niggaz they finesse da plug out here
Its hard to find someone to trust out here they might cock it back and bust out here

I'm with my bitch chasing a bag run up da racks
Im going mad f*ck dat bitch aint going out sad
I need about 1 mill 2 mill 3 mill I need da bands
I need that all red Ferrari with no roof
I got a bad bitch I call her my masseuse
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice

Cold streets bullets start flying for it
Man this money's like the devil niggaz dying for it
For these stones in there bezel they'll ride for it
I thank the lord I used to watch my mother cry boy
Dark times hard nights, man I had to grind I lived a hard life
Seen more fish scale than birds eye
If rap don't work I'll make them birds fly
Yeah, they could never tarnish me
This is just the start of me I come from da trenches
I was jumping over fences the struggle made me relentless
I swear that they wont forget this
I was born to be great, my success is self-made yeah
The lord made me great the streets raised me up
You aint getting no money cause you talk too much
I'm running up these racks im tryna ball too much
Niggaz are fake they aint the same as us

I'm with my bitch chasing a bag run up da racks
I'm going mad f*ck dat bitch aint going out sad
I need about 1 mill 2 mill 3 mill I need da bands
I need that all red Ferrari with no roof
I got a bad bitch I call her my masseuse
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice
F*ck what there talking 'bout man they aint got no juice