Level Up

Bimmer boy, couple years ago I was in a hatchback
Got my money right, since then I ain't never look back
Why he mad his bitch hitting my phone? He can have that
I don't want no bitch that's jumping cliques, I just want the racks
Niggas want to try me but don't know, I go tit for tat
Anywhere I go, keep the Glock and an extra mag
Every time I step up on the scene, niggas look extra mad
Exclusive New Era fitted, but I'm not full of cap
Niggas running circles around you nigga, go take an extra lap
Big cutters in the front seat and we known to do the dash
Fast car, 200 on the dash, I ain't coming in last
Focused on what's in front of me, nigga I ain't worried about the past
Stinging like a bumblebee, I'm floating off this Cali gas
Putting illegal tint on my whip so when 12 behind me, I'm out on they ass
Could really give a fuck what a nigga be saying cus in reality I be counting that cash
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
I don't know
I don't really be talking to people no more so if it ain't money don't be hitting my phone
Spending your check on some foreign cologne
Whenever I ask she gonna give me some dome
Bout to ice out my neck, finna flood it with stones
New ass nigga tryna ask for a loan
I don't even know this nigga, but a nigga calling me twin
He not my twin if he don't spend what I spend
Fuck up a check and we do it again
Soon niggas ballin like Meech til the end

Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
I don't know
I don't really be talking to people no more so if it ain't money don't be hitting my phone



Credits
Writer(s): Andre Hill
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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