Lyrics JUICE - Tobe Nwigwe, Paul Wall

JUICE

What it do\nOuu\nTobe, what it do baby?\nOn God, I got the juice\nTobe Bryant\nMe, I’m Paul Wall Frazier\n(On God, I got the juice)\n(I got the juice, I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof)\nNell, what it do?\nSam Canell\nLanell Sprewell\nAye, aye, aye, aye\nIt’s that Paul Walrus, I got a lot of monikers\nFresh from Santa Monica gettin' blowed like harmonicas\nThat smoke got me harmonious, I’m so gone like Monica\nBlowin' backwoods only, the only papers is Houston Chronicles\nA Hall of Fame hustler, voted unanimous and anonymous\nBut boys be actin' animus 'cause my presence is rather ominous\nNot to mention my pockets are fat as a obese hippopotamus\nI avoid hate like obstacles, talkin' down is so monotonous\nThem boys couldn’t see me through they oculus with binoculars\nI’m still the people’s champ, yeah my pseudonym is synonymous\nI like to stack up lots of bucks while you chasin' after octopus\nI’m married to the game so it’s easy to be monogamous\nI’m never fallin' off, the mere notion is preposterous\nStill In my prime like optimus, used to pop trunk at Metropolis\nThe grind is rather arduous but I ain’t stoppin' 'til the apocalypse\n'Cause I do it for my family, not the likes nor the followers\nPaul Wallaby\nOn God, I got the juice\nOn God, I got the juice\nI got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof\nI-I-I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof\nI hit up Paul and told him that I want gold in my mouth\nSo when I speak, all day shine off in my teeth, light up nouns\nThat’s a person, place or thing, swear I’m diverse in ways I bring\nBales of manna with country grammar, sweet as a tangerine\nI follow a Nazarene but I still might paint the Hyundai candy\n'Cause I’m modest but be honest, I got more sauce than shrimp scampi\nI go ape, I go chimpanzee on every beat that they hand me\nI’ve been branded as the man who gon' handle my hood advancement\nOut the slum, I ain’t dumb, I know you plotters be peepin'\nBut my head down and my arms cover my paper, it ain’t no cheatin'\nI’m eatin' plus I got all the flavor, I’m lowkey seasoning\nWoe are those who willingly done gave their heart to hoes\nI was told by the G code that that’s fleeting\nOn God, I was broke for over thirty seasons\nNow me and Fat in our thirties 'bout to be in Norway\nLike some melinated Norwegians\nIf a rapper stiff as me, he prolly ain’t breathing\nThat’s rigor mortis, I hope y’all absorb this, flow gorgeous\nHow I’m teaching\nFlow freezing, I’m the coldest in my region\nY’all decent but if I’m critiquing, y’all feces\nIt ain’t nothing personal, lies kill\nAnd if I die tomorrow, my wife and my whole hood know I’m real\nOn God, I got the juice (Too real)\nOn God, I got the juice (True and real, trill)\nI got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof (They talkin' 'bout?\nJuiced up)\nI-I-I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof (Aye juiced up,\ngot all the juice)\nI’m still breakin' boys off from the North to the South\n(I got gold in my grill), I got diamonds in my mouth\nI’m still breakin' boys off from the North to the South\n(I got gold in my grill), I got diamonds in my mouth\nNo toll tag, I still stunt hard on the feeder\nWith a baby in the backseat and a bad mamacita\n(Block bleeder, stackin' Keebler, God bless me, I’m a sneezer)\n(Shakin' off haters like seizures, countin' paper in my leisure)\nFlow water, Aquafina, nah, I’m lyin', that’s acidic\nI spit Fiji but if need be, I’m a ocean like Pacific\n(My slab look like an exhibit, all the boppers want to visit)\n(My interior’s butter biscuits, I’m the greatest to be specific)\nDog, that’s explicit, hella vivid but my flow magic like a wizard\nI’m with Paul, hell, all we need is a color-changing lizard\n(Now hold up Tobe, that’s expensive, that’s my brother though, no tension)\n(Matter fact, go tag Chamillionaire in my mentions, let’s get it)\nOn God