[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 n***as stop stressin'
Man, that's a case closed
I been 'round beef, fuck with me the long way
Since n***as always snitchin', we gon' do this shit the hard way
In elementary schools with Dracos in 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, n***a
Hundred-fifty bands and I still had the stitches, n***a
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 n***a, fuck an image, eighty sent 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 n***a, you know it's levels
You might got a Rollie too, but mine 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' n***a, know it's levels
Lyin'-ass n***a, 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 so 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 n***as wearin' walkie-talkies, [?]
[Chorus]
Little n***a, you know it's levels
You might got a Rollie too, but my mine 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