Soundtracks: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

List of artists: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


Juice WRLD - Hard to Digest lyrics

  Click to play this song!

Hard to Digest by Juice WRLD


[Intro]
Hundred round, Kel-Tec
Bullets hard to digest, uh (Gezin)
Hundred round, Kel-Tec
Bullets hard to digest, yes (808 Mafia)
(What up Jake? What up Chris? What up [Donovan?])
Let’s go (Ayy)
[Chorus]
Hundred round, Kel-Tec
Bullets hard to digest, yes
Got my hand on her breasts
You need to get somethin’ off your chest, yes
I’m in the gym, bowflex!
Where I come from, the projects
Vector with the big tits
My family I will protect
[Post-Chorus]
Mr. Miyagi, I chop it, I bag it, I sell it
The studio, just like a trap house
They Master Splinter, they rattin’, they snitchin’, they tellin’
There’s too many fakes on the real now
Tellin’ everybody that they got it on em right now
Versace long sleeve cover up the light house
I ride around like I live in the White House
I remember, I was collecting quarters for White Owls
[Verse 1]
Came a long way alone
Best part about it, I did it on my own
I’ma go to London just to get some scones
After that, let’s roam in Rome
Uh, buzzin’ off the percs
Talkin’ to God, drinkin’ that syrup
Feel like I could fly
And just like that, we gone
Out of there, like Barry Bonds
Uh, D&G on, D&G on, D&G on, yeah
Like a picture on the wall, Gucci my draws
Double G on my groin’, yeah
D&G on, D&G on, D&G on, yeah
f**k it, I’ma flaunt, I’m gon’ do what I want, yeah
Yeah, sippin’ that purple like Prince, yeah
I put all white on the whips, yeah
Look like the Pope in this b**ch, yeah
Roxy powder on my lip
Look like we doin’ dope in this b**ch, yeah
Got the throat from the b**ch then it’s over with
b**ch, I stay fresh like a pack of deodorant
[Chorus]
Hundred round, Kel-Tec
Bullets hard to digest, yes
Got my hand on her breasts
You need to get somethin’ off your chest, yes
I’m in the gym, bowflex!
Where I come from, the projects
Vector with the big tits
My family I will protect
[Post-Chorus]
Mr. Miyagi, I chop it, I bag it, I sell it
The studio, just like a trap house
They Master Splinter, they rattin’, they snitchin’, they tellin’
There’s too many fakes on the real now
Tellin’ everybody that they got it on em right now
Versace long sleeve cover up the light house
I ride around like I live in the White House
I remember, I was collecting quarters for White Owls
[Verse 2]
Uh, Mortal Combat with the aim, fatality shot (Uh-huh)
I know it’s a lot of f**k niggas tryna come for my spot (Uh-huh)
I know it’s a lot of f**k niggas that want what I got
But you can’t get it, I’m in the mix
Pick up a gun, pick up a fist, b**ch
Talkin’ that sh*t, gun wit a dick
Hit a f**k nigga in his sh*t, uh
Me not havin’ money, don’t make any sense
If I go broke, I’ma hit a lick, uh
Acupuncture with this thumper
It’s been through a lot of stick ups
I’ve been through a lot of hiccups
Why these f**k niggas on my dick, bruh?
Uhm, I don’t know why but
It’s probably ’cause I’m fly, over average guy
I’m up in the sky, huh
Everyday I get so high, problems to the side
Demons I’ma fight them from a left right combo, Tyson
Ride through life with no license, ayy



A-Z Lyrics Universe

Follow us

Lyrics / song texts are property and copyright of their owners and provided for educational purposes.