Levels

Lyrics

[Verse 1: J. Stone] I got a V12 engine, with about 12 businesses Call up 12 and judge call 12 jurors Last 12 months, I've been counting up Benjamins Last 12 months I've been cashing out jewelers Shout out to my lawyer, he beat the case and he's Jewish Might fuck around buy a Mueller, my low rider was a Buick (what else) 12 batteries for sure, I kept him juiced up I was 12 years old lacing up my blue chucks Breaking the home just for a few bucks Y'all moved out but I moved up Shooters making the home up for pure luck The judge lovе to hang niggas at the cool clut Free my locc it's 12 years up, still catch a fade no crеw cut Outside and I never have my jewels tucked 92 riots we was looting Made a half a million dropped songs on computers Now we winning I remember we was losing Flat broke bad bitch still choosing (still choosing up) Rolling down Crenshaw cruising (still rolling) Bending corners to my own music I'm the driver nigga and my own shooter I'm the driver nigga and my own shooter [Verse 2: Bun B] Say nigga I grew up in the ghetto west side PA where a drama never settle When it when down better put the pedal to the medal 'Cause the shit can get hotter than a kettle Man remember what we did back then like it was last night Little homie slap box hood rats with cat fight Fiends smoking on butler out of a crack pipe talk down you can get that act right that's right We smoke dirty weed with seeds and stems Looking up the dope boys cheese and pimps Watching hoes on their knees getting cheese from simps While bosses ate steak lobs to make them cheese and shrimps It all made a young nigga wanna grind On a mission with that money on his mind You don't work you don't eat you don't shine I see it all in front of me is you blind Hustle hard from the spring to the winter time Making sure it's steak on the plate when its dinner time We ain't new to it man we been being through Repping from Colorado for caret to Crenshaw From a city of cut throws and connivers Late nighters never 9 to 5 us I'm the shooter nigga and my own driver I'm the shooter nigga and my own driver [Verse 3: Trae t\ha Truth] Real legends niggas never go see nothing greater Stick in my pants cuz I feel like its dark 
Invader I'm in the hood bullets sounding like we in
Al Qaeda These niggas suckers, better know we don't fuck with no hater How they ain't even at the table but looking for waiters and Nigga business but should have been looking for paper Streets looking for me probably just hoping I save em Handle my businesses now never gonna handle em later I made it out the bottom now somewhere in the ceiling Any track of homicide it feel like a killing yeah Brody told me keep my cool fuck it
 I'm chilling Fuck water by the neck dripping feel like its spilling I'm this Maybach trucking, women I'm fucking Topic of a nigga discussion, why they keep rushing Trying to see how niggas be opps, niggas be ducking Niggas out here fake on the ground, should have been hustling Yeah I was cold but shit I should have been colder Play with the chopper, you see that bitch on my shoulder So niggas can't see me like I was bread with exposure Ain't leaving no witness, I leave that thing for Jehovah I swear it's a Marathon, nigga ain't rushing nothing I was just taking time, tryna get paid from it Feel like a motivation, us niggas ain't have nothing Went made the stage of it, bitch, I was made from it [Outro: J. Stone] LA nigga with the H-town bitch West side nigga on my PA shit South Central nigga on my D-town shit, uh LA nigga with the H-town bitch West side nigga on my PA shit South Central nigga on my D-town shit, uh