Escucha música Flaws Session de Juice Wrld 2025 en línea | Musica Rap

Juice Wrld - Flaws Session Lyrics

Flaws (Session) Lyrics[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my drawers
That bitch know that I'm a boss, I'ma catch like Randy Moss
I ain't never off, yeah, all I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks on, racks off, I don't fuck with nobody, I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf, boy, that shit dead like Nate Dawg
Say you want beef, chop it like steak sauce
Migos goes in the trap, like takeoff
Big guns, they'll take your face off
Can't see these fuck n**ga's like Ray Charles, yeah

[Verse]
A hundred bands, spend all that shit, she looked at my whole tеam, then fucked on them
Hе say he want smoke, we'll up on him, and we'll bust at them
They don't want no static
Rock my choker and tote my ratchet, do a drill, listenin' to Lenny Kravitz
Off a pill, yeah, I dunk Shaquille, yeah, tight jeans, bankrolls for sex appeal

[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my drawers
That bitch know that I'm a boss, I'ma catch like Randy Moss
I ain't never off, yeah, all I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks on, racks off, I don't fuck with nobody, I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf, boy, that shit dead like Nate Dawg
Say you want beef, chop it like steak sauce
Migos goes in the trap, like takeoff
Big guns, they'll take your face off
Can't see these fuck n**ga's like Ray Charles, yeah

[Verse 2]
In a booth, yeah, smoking boof, yeah
Fuck the lies, I get high to see the truth, yeah
Who am I? Fuck, n**ga, who are you, yeah
Cock it back, load it up, I'll let it shoot, yeah
Got the juice, yeah, got the juice, yeah
It's my world, it's my world, I got the juice, yeah
Got the juice, got the juice, I got the juice, yeah
Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah
I pour a four inside my cup like it's nothing
You run up on me, then you know that it's bustin'
You ain't talkin' money, that's the end of that discussion
Fuck her from the back, I hit that bitch until she comin'
Ayy, well, paparazzi fans get to runnin'
Rockstar jumpin' to the crowd, now they jumpin'
Twenty-three up in my Glock, jumpin', jumpin', jumpin'
You ain't makin' money, naw, you just makin' assumptions
Put my dick all in her jaw, break her back just like the law
This some real n**ga business, so these fake n**gas can't get involved
All I do is problem-solve, all I do is count it up
Leave him leakin' aqueducts, shoot him in his stomach till he had enough

[Chorus]
She in love with my flaws, put Versace on my drawers
That bitch know that I'm a boss, I'ma catch like Randy Moss
I ain't never off, yeah, all I do is floss, yeah
Double G my outfit, cause it cost to be the boss, yeah
Racks on, racks off, I don't fuck with nobody, I hate y'all
I'm a killer at heart, like Adolf, boy, that shit dead like Nate Dawg
Say you want beef, chop it like steak sauce
Migos goes in the trap, like takeoff
Big guns, they'll take your face off
Can't see these fuck n**ga's like Ray Charles, yeah