JUICE (feat. Paul Wall)

What it do?

Ooh

Tobe, what's up, baby

On God

Tobe Bryant (I got the Juice)

Me, I'm Paul Wall Frazier

Nell, what it do? (I got the Juice)

Sam Canell

Lanell Sprewell, aye, aye, aye, aye

It's that Paul Wallrus

I got a lotta monikers

Fresh from Santa Monica

Gettin' blowed like harmonicas

That smoke got me harmonious

I'm so gone like Monica

Blowin' Backwoods only

The only papers is Houston Chronicle

A hall of fame hustler, voted unanimous and anonymous

But boys be actin' animus

'Cause my presence is rather ominous

Not to mention, my pockets are fat as a obese hippopotamus

I avoid hate like obstacles

Talkin' down is so monotonous

Them boys couldn't see me through they oculus with binoculars

I'm still the people's champ, yeah, my pseudonym is synonymous

I like to stack up lotsa bucks while you chasin' after octopus

I'm married to the game so it's easy to be monogamous

I'm never falling off, there mere notion is preposterous

Still in my prime like Optimus

Used to pop trunk at Metropolis

The grind is rather arduous

But I ain't stoppin' till the Apocalypse

'Cause I do it for my family

Not the like nor the followers

Paul Wallaby

On God

I got the juice, on God

I got the juice

I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof

I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof

I hit up Paul and told him that I want gold in my mouth

So when I speak, all that shine off in my teeth light up nouns

That's a person, place or thing, swear I'm diverse in ways I bring

Bales of manna with with country grammar, sweet as a tangerine

I follow a Nazarene but I still might paint the Hyundai candy

'Cause I'm modest, but be honest, I got more sauce than shrimp scampi

I go ape, I go chimpanzee on every beat that they hand me

I been branded as the man who gon' handle my hood advancement

Out the slum

I ain't dumb

I know you plotters be peepin'

But my head down

And my arms cover my paper

It ain't no cheatin'

I'm eatin'

Plus I got all the flavor, I'm low-key seasonin'

Woe are those who willingly done gave they heart to hoes

I was told by the G code that that's fleetin'

On God, I was broke for over thirty seasons

Now me and Fat in our 30s 'bout to be in Norway

Like some melanated Norwegians

If a rapper stiff as me, he probably ain't breathin'

That's rigor mortis, I hope y'all absorb this flow

Gorgeous how I'm teachin'

Flow freezin'

I'm the coldest in my region

Y'all decent

But if I'm critiquin', y'all feces

It ain't nothin' personal

Lies kill

And if I die tomorrow my wife and my whole hood know I'm real

On God (Too real)

I got the juice, on God (True and real, trill)

I got the juice

I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof

I got the juice like I pushed Bishop off the roof

I'm still breakin' boys off from the North to the South

I got gold in my grill, I got diamonds in my mouth

I'm still breakin' boys off from the North to the South

I got gold in my grill, I got diamonds in my mouth

No toll tag, I still stunt hard on the feeder

With a baby in the back-seat and a bad mamacita

Block bleeder, stockin' Keebler, God bless me, I'm a sneezer

Shakin' off haters like seizures, countin' paper in my leisure

Flow water, Aquafina

Naw, I'm lyin', that's acidic

I spit Fiji, but if need be

I'm a ocean like Pacific

My slab look like an exhibit

All the boppers wanna visit

My interior's butter biscuit

I'm the greatest, to be specific

Dawg, that's explicit, hella vivid

But my flow magic like a wizard

I'm with Paul, hell, all we need

Is a color-changin' lizard

Now hold up, Tobe, that's expensive

That's my brother, though, no tension

Matter of fact, go tag Chamillionaire in my mentions

Let's get it

On God