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Tyler – Juggernaut Lyrics

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Read Time:2 Minute, 36 Second

Hey Miss Parker
Wait, wait, wait, wait
Somethin like uh-oh
I just cut some fresh lemons, wheres the sugar?
Lemon in my ade, lemon in my ears, call em boogers
Rather six feet fore Im ever seen with you niggas hold up
Yeah

What it is? Its that nigga T, skin look colored in woo
Ridin in double-double R, thats that Cullinan yeah
Pullin in that four hundred grand, I just ordered this yeah

Switzerland, Lake Geneva where I spend my summer in true story
GOLF le FLEUR, thats Gianno shoe, what Im runnin in
Earlobe look like headlights on a minivan Gangsta Grillz
Im so motherfuckin dead-ass, I need some Timberlands woo
I battle any man, Uzi Vert, dont think they understand yeah, yeah

Uh skrrt, cool double C on my feet
Double G on my freak ooh Louis V by my briefs
She wan kick it with me, she better eat it then leave leave, woah

She try save all the plates but keep eatin my meat
We cant see none of em grow, she keep eatin my seeds woo
Got a E and a B on the back of the seat
See Im done with the 12, got a V16 uh

Say the money comin in, yeah, thats true
The more money I get, I dont wan sex you
Cant think about the last time that I text you

Its probably when sidekicks had them belt loops
Sign my John Hancock on a bitch every time I check you
Just like a brand new Lamb, I wreck you, uh
So whats mine is yours woo, woo, woo

Ride to the dinner tapin
Outta time and imagine her in the exit
Last deal more than what Google say my net is
I got cheddar with the chef in the tinted exit like woah
Yeah, uh, uh, uh, woah

Its the double P, I rock double C
Man, I run them beats like you run in cleats
Man, come to me, you want somethin to see
This internally flawed, thats a double Vs
What troubles me is you couple me
With these subtle fleas tryna double league
Hornet trapped in the hive of a motherfuckin bumblebee

They just got the closest picture of the fuckin sun surface, that was us
Got the LaFerrari, park that bitch just for one purpose, catchin dust
My Secret Service carry mops, you call em street sweepers, back you up
Tat you up then add you up, then give you a cover like Adwoa

If the shits fake, I dont respect it, its clickbait
And thats distaste like a shit shake
What a difference your wrist make when its Richard-made
Hungry eyes tend to fixate like a empty stomach for a fish plate
Shit-faced, get this straight, this is truck wheels, deck, grip tape

Ride to the dinner tapin
Outta time and imagine her in the exit why you even talkin to us?
Last deal more than what Google say my net is goddamn
I got cheddar with the chef in the tinted exit like woah
Uh, uh, uh bitch

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