Arctic Tundra (feat. Juice WRLD)

Bad bitches run the world, let me make it clear
When I leave Juice WRLD, I'm back to pink hair
Haha, Max Lord, preach it, haha
Gezin
I fuck the blunt up, hahaha
Yeah, I'm on marijuana (marijuana)
My lean plug say he'll be here in a second (pull up)
I'm getting high, I'm feelin' restless (I'm sad)
Feel like I'm finna die (R.I.P.)

Fuck the blunt up, then fuck your momma (uh-huh)
My VVS cold like an arctic tundra
A 40 on me, woah, you don't want no problems
And you best proceed with some caution, yeah
This song for the girl with the blonde hair
Suck me up good, give me Becky, like, yeah
She ride it, like, yeah, in a Versace chair
Her boyfriend heated like a grill, no Hibachi, yeah

This Young Money ENT, fuck that negative Nancy
I'm still balling, I'm still balling, NBA on TNT
Came through dripping, D&G, always ducking TMZ
Flow still need that EMT, tell her get at me and see

I'm the toppa toppa, bitches is a Khan like Chaka
I get it before they cop it, always been that type of shopper
And I never tell a lie, I just put one in the sky
I just popped me a transformer, getting money 'til we die

'Til we die we gon' be fly, made a milli' in Shanghai
I don't need job applications, for that pressure I apply
That is why they gotta lie, that is just how they get by
But my flow still gon' be wavy and your flow still gon' be dry

I done fucked the world up in ten short years
Had teachers like Weezy F. and been all ears
Lose studs that's VVS, then get more peers
They been praying on my downfall, still need more prayers, I'ma-

Fuck the bag up and fuck your daddy
I'ma stay up like I popped three addys
Girl with the blonde hair, they call me Barbie
Let's get faded and have a party, yeah

If you got that bomb, put your hands in the air
Bad bitches run the world, let me make it clear
When I leave Juice WRLD, I'm back to pink hair
'Cause me somewhere fuckin' a blunt up
And fuckin' on your momma

Fuck the blunt up, then fuck your momma (uh-huh)
My VVS cold like an arctic tundra
A 40 on me, woah, you don't want no problems
And you best proceed with some caution, yeah
This song for the girl with the blonde hair
Suck me up good, give me Becky, like, yeah
She ride it, like, yeah, in a Versace chair
Her boyfriend heated like a grill, no Hibachi, yeah

I'm high as hell, mind everywhere
Still mind over matter
Pockets getting fatter, elevate like a ladder
30 and that 40 make you percolate like a dancer
I'm colder than the North Pole, Blitzen and Prancer
She say she from the strip pole, she a dirty dancer
Her ex-nigga too low, she don't got no standards

He ain't right
You don't live a better life
Ran it up like Jerry Rice
I don't gotta say it twice
This is real life
Your nigga is Fisher-Price
Now you read minds
You was thinkin' 'bout how I'm that nigga, right?

Fuck the blunt up, then fuck your momma (uh-huh)
My VVS cold like an arctic tundra
A 40 on me, woah, you don't want no problems
And you best proceed with some caution, yeah
This song for the girl with the blonde hair
Suck me up good, give me Becky, like, yeah
She ride it, like, yeah, in a Versace chair
Her boyfriend heated like a grill, no Hibachi, yeah

Said he want the pretty girl with the blonde hair
Fatty on the Max like some Nike Air
Fuck his last girl 'cause I am her nightmare
Looking this good shouldn't even be fair
Said he want the pretty girl with the blonde hair
Fetti on the Max like some Nike Air
Fuck his last girl 'cause I am her nightmare
Looking this good shouldn't even be-

Fuck the girls that just hate on baddies
Shout the bad bitches that act all bratty
Nothing but all this designer on me
All of my niggas throwing up gang signs for me (for me)