Doomsday Song Lyrics
Uh-huh, yeah-yeahJuice is eating a, uh, ice creamWith, uh, lots of caramel (bitch)I just had a ice cream sandwich, M&MsOn a Eminem beat, ironicallyYeah-yeah, three yearsUh, uh, okay
I’m the type to come in the game and just launch painWith a bronze frame and a tattoo of my mom’s nameThis industry has nothing to offer beyond fameTime to take these niggas to school, LeBron James
Lesson one, I’m a bad teacher who gave the class seizuresSmash divas, stash reefer in the lab freezerI found the reefer Cordae stashed in the back of the labSo I’m in class, smokin’ gas, slappin’ the class preacher
Bring the house down on you hoes, Queen LatifahI’m too fast, gettin’ this cashGet in the way, get your brain bashedChopper gon’ smash, hittin’ your faceI’ma tie up, just like a shoe, my flow laced
Y’all niggas so fake, wash your face in my showcaseFresher than Colgate, make hoes wait, I hold weightBottle of Rosé in the Rolls, drivin’ with road rageFor ten days, off Xans, just tryna get paid
And since the sixth grade I been great, no senseiMy rent paid for ten days ’cause my pen’s greatI smoke ten Js with two hoes that go both waysFunny how two plus two equals foreplay
Speakin’ of foreplay, had this shit in the hallway withA nun on Sunday, I guess I’m just too blessed (whoa, ayy)Me and my nigga Juice WRLD takin’ over the UniverseYou knew it first, got my mom Chanel with the newest purse
Birkin bag, never hurt to ask, “What type of purse is that?”Something that’s very fuckin’ expensive, I deserve to bragI murder tracks, this isn’t mumble, it’s murder rapType of shit your grandma understand with her old ass
Spend a half a million, then go back and make some more cashThe hair trigger Brazilian, you would get your whole hood waxed
See, what you know about my life and my troubled past?Took the shuttle pass, hit the mall, I got double cash, copped the duffle bagTen bands on my fuckin’ ass, that’s a subtle bragHi Level, we be makin’ moves, hit the huddle fast, ah
Break the huddle, get a sack, that’s a fumble on the playNot in my house, he look like Mutombo in the faceLeave him spinnin’ like a funnel cloud with lightning and some thunderLike the Wizard of O-Z, the way we carry him away (uh)
Carry him, then bury him, barbarianBeef with anybody, even if you vegetarianMy flow on ebola, your flow just need ClaritinRunnin’ laps ’round these chaps, it’s embarrassin’
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