X-Mas List Lyrics – Juice WRLD
Singer: Juice WRLD
Title: X-Mas List
DY Krazy
All I want from Christmas is some all-gold teeth
Cowboy chief, hat on my head, rifle on the scene
Gucci sweater on me like a Christmas list (Yee-haw)
AK-47 on my Christmas list (Yee-haw)
Son of a b#tch tried to rob me, had to dump my clip (Yee-haw)
That’s a purdy-ass p#ss# (Ah), let me swim in it (Yee-haw)
Yeah, we the roughest, toughest n#gg#s ’round town (Yeah, yeah)
What I’m totin’ be a McMillan, then yo’ ho down (Yeah)
If he like yo’ ho, he may just tie your ho down (Uh-huh)
I heard her name Mary, hit, then Bailey made her go ’round (Yee-haw)
Uh, round ’em up, just another day on the ranch
Brand new band in the Gucci pants, Codeinе cowboy, I’m a champ
Big-ass Gucci belt buckle, with a revolvеr in my pants
I bet you never went bull ridin’ off a couple xans (Yee-haw)
I keep a lil’ somethin’ in my holster, ’cause if it go up, then it’s over
I keep a lil’ somethin’ in my cup, codeine pourin’, runneth over (Ah)
Put a lil’ somethin’ in her gut
She comin’, she keep comin’ over and over
We gettin’ close, she my cowgirl, I feel her holster (Yee-haw)
Beverly hillbillies, countin’ them real billi’s
Dirtbikes poppin’ them real wheelies (Yee-haw)
Beverly hillbillies, pass me a pill
I can’t deal with it, deal with it all
Gucci sweater on me like a Christmas list (Yee-haw)
AK-47 on my Christmas list (Yee-haw)
Son of a b#tch tried to rob me, had to dump my clip (Yee-haw)
That’s a purdy-ass p#ss# (Ah), let me swim in it (Yee-haw)
Yeah, we the roughest, toughest n#gg#s ’round town (Yeah, yeah)
What I’m totin’ be a McMillan, then yo’ ho down (Yeah)
If he like yo’ ho, he may just tie your ho down (Uh-huh)
I heard her name Mary, hit, then Bailey made her go ’round (Yee-haw)
Say he wanna have a shootout, n#gg#, where you at? (Uh)
I’m at the saloon gettin’ slumped off the Jack (Uh)
Got a revolver on me, I’m gon’ meet you in the back (Uh)
Shoot you in the face after we take these five steps (Uh)
Smith & Wesson five hundred in my grip
My new watch gon’ cost five hundred, don’t trip
I ain’t talkin’ ’bout whiskey when I say I got the drip
Gucci boots with the spurs so the haters gon’ trip, yeah
Haters gon’ trip, yeah
I’m robbin’ them for their loot, they ain’t gon’ do sh#t
Old broke-ass son of b#tch
Gucci sweater on me like a Christmas list (Yee-haw)
AK-47 on my Christmas list (Yee-haw)
Son of a b#tch tried to rob me, had to dump my clip (Yee-haw)
That’s a purdy-ass p#ss# (Ah), let me swim in it (Yee-haw)
Yeah, we the roughest, toughest n#gg#s ’round town (Yeah, yeah)
What I’m totin’ be a McMillan, then yo’ ho down (Yeah)
If he like yo’ ho, he may just tie your ho down (Uh-huh)
I heard her name Mary, hit, then Bailey made her go ’round (Yee-haw)
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Lyrics Juice WRLD – X-Mas List
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