Tyler, The Creator - JUGGERNAUT Lyrics

JUGGERNAUT

Tyler, The Creator

TYLER, THE CREATOR JUGGERNAUT DETAILS

Tyler, The Creator JUGGERNAUT Lyrics. JUGGERNAUT Song Sung By American Rapper And Artist Tyler, The Creator On Seventh Studio Album. Tyler, The Creator JUGGERNAUT Is American Pop Song. Tyler, The Creator JUGGERNAUT English Lyrics.

TYLER, THE CREATOR JUGGERNAUT INFO

• Song : JUGGERNAUT
• Artist : Tyler, The Creator
• Album : CALL ME IF YOU GET LOST
• Genre : Pop
• Label : Columbia Records
• Language : English
• Release Date : 2021.06.25

TYLER, THE CREATOR JUGGERNAUT LYRICS

Hey Miss Parker

Wait, wait, wait, wait

Somethin' like (Uh-oh)

I just cut some fresh lemons, where's the sugar?

Lemon in my 'ade, lemon in my ears, call 'em boogers

Rather six feet 'fore I'm ever seen with you niggas (Hold up)

Yeah

What it is? It's that nigga T, skin look colored in (Woo)

Ridin' in double-double R, that's that Cullinan (Yeah)

Pullin' in that four hundred gram, I just bought a disc (Yeah)

Switzerland, Lake Geneva where I spend my summer in (True story)

Golf le Fleur, that's Gianno shoe, what I'm runnin' in

Earlobe look like headlights on a new van (Gangsta Grillz)

I'm so motherfuckin' dead-ass, I need some Timberlands (Woo)

I battle any man, Uzi Vert, don't think they understand (Yeah, yeah)

Uh (Skrrt, cool), double C on my feet

Double G on my freak (Ooh), Louis V by my brick

She wan' kick it with me, she better eat it then leave (Leave, whoa)

She try save 'bout the place but keep eatin' my meat

We can't see none of 'em, bro, she keep eatin' my seeds (Woo)

Got a E and a B on the back of the CT

I'm done with the 12, got a V16 (Uh)

Say the money comin' in, yeah, that's true

The more money I get, I don't wan' sex you

Can't think about the last time that I text you

It's probably one Sidekicks out 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 if this mind is yours (Woo, woo, woo)

Ride to the dinner tapin'

Outta time and imagine her in the exit

Last year more than what Google say my net is

I got chatter with the chef in the tinted exit (Like, whoa)

Yeah, uh, uh, uh, whoa

It's 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, that's 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 shit's fake, I don't respect it, it's clickbait

And that's distaste like a shit shake

What a difference your wrist make when it's Richard-made

Hungry eyes tend to fixate like a empty stomach for a fish plate

Shit-faced, get this straight, this is truck wheels that grip tape

Ride to the dinner tapin'

Outta time and imagine her in the exit (Why you even talkin' to us?)

Last year more than what Google say my net is (Goddamn)

I got chatter with the chef in the tinted exit

Uh, uh, uh