[Intro]

Sheesh

Shit, I guess that's me, huh? Uh

I'm back on one of those, shit, So Cold I Do Em

[Verse 1]

Tell these niggas stop stressin'

Man, that's a case closed

I been 'round beef, fuck with me the long way

Since niggas always snitchin', we gon' do this shit the hard way

In elementary schools with Dracos in the hallways (Low the Great)

Grimy-ass shooter but his jeans by Balmain

Investigate this scene, you gon' need some long tape

Tell me what's wrong, why these rappers always fakin'?

Actin' like I don't rap like this all day

You want a fuckin' show?

Then buy a ticket, nigga

A Hundred-fifty bands and I still had the stitches, nigga

Big Bank Buddha but my shoes plain Christian

And, c'mon, ten bands? I'm worth at least three-hundred K

'Cause that's what you gon' need to get me up out the way

My momma always said, "Son, you worth more than that"

And nigga, fuck an image, eighty said there's more than rap

A star that is me, a Heisman-league quarterback

Get the job done or I'ma need my quarter back

Chillin' at the condo with at least a quarter straps

Mr. Fuckin' Mosely, yes, I drink more than average

I know I got a problem, yes indeed, it's more than bad

[Chorus]

Little nigga, you know it's levels

You might got a Rollie too, but my ice just broke the bezel

The police wanna get behind me but inside they know it's levels

This heavy-duty rock 'n' roll I'm tradin' toolies with the devil (Shit, you don't wanna be on any)

I know you wanna be me too, but then again, you know it's levels

[Verse 2]

Levels

Lil' nigga, know it's levels

Lyin'-ass nigga, knew your daddy was Geppetto

If you want underneath me, then you need to get a shovel

Guns N Roses, baby, how I'm kickin' heavy metal

Get to stompin' in these Air Force Ones like I'm Nelly

Throwin' bows like I'm Luda for my Big Bank Buddha piece

Nine two one, it's not custom-made jewelry

Diamond test a rapper, that fugazi-ass jewelry

Bought twenty, thirty thousand off this shit is not new to me

I'm really in the streets every day, you ain't foolin' me

Pro Tools gangsters always actin' like they do this shit

Come on, who really blow strips? My neck wearin' trophies

Can't say what's in my wallet but my clip is wearin' blue tips

Done popped too many pills, shit, it's startin' to make my head spin

You wanna win a baby? Shit, then show me how that neck feel

Police niggas wearin' walkie-talkies, [?]-

[Chorus]

Little nigga, you know it's levels

You might got a Rollie too, but my ice just broke the bezel

The police wanna get behind me, but inside, they know it's levels

This heavy-duty rock 'n' roll, I'm tradin' toolies with the devil (Shit)

I know you wanna be me too, but then again, you know it's levels