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letra de next level - babytron

[verse 1]
what up mark?
ayo mark a
in the ufo off moon rock, i might be a martian
gelo and lamelo me and d hitting threes in charlotte
you won’t see me out unless you catch me leaving neiman marcus
i’ll flash a long-sleeve, let me take the sleeve and park it
coffee cup full of wock and pop, this ain’t tim horton’s
before my face card was hot, i had been scorchin’
steak fiend, this the third time this week i hit morton’s
whip roarin’, hopping out in ‘iaga’s, only drip foreign
track one step it, track one swipe it, roadrunnin’, shoutout yachty, think that imma one night it
scat pack with the wasps, finna buzz by him
where the tester at? i told yo ass that these some hutch diamonds
woke up, made a dub, you ain’t even brush your t–th yet
hundred-rounder, just so he don’t get the chance to cheat death
if i slide down, it’s only going to be some debris left
12 on the right dumbass, you gotta swing left
what i learned is backdoors is something you can’t leave open
chopstick, every shot auto, guess i’m free throwin’
high as h-ll because the weed and the drink potent
bumped into peezy up in hutch, he told me keep going

[verse 2]
(hey, hey)
told my ocky grab his turban time to firebomb some sh-t
if you ain’t down to die in the ride then why you hoppin in?
macbook open, blowin woods, finna politic
at ruth’s chris heard you still take mcdonald’s trips
match yo fo’ in his deuce i just dropped a sixth
buffs on, pass some paper towel or some snot gon drip
elle delle donne you shoot a shot my b-tch gon block yo sh-t
i mean swat yo sh-t, takin off like a rocket ship
mike amiri’s skinny, $30k, now that’s some thigh pads
hatin on the sh-ttyboyz? well you gon die mad
mr. v12 f-ck around and see me fly past
told the plug i need the whole bowl you coppin dime bags

[verse 3]
(what the f-ck is going on nowadays? what up hokatiwi
hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, b-tch, sh-ttyboyz)

down in the a with a stick feel like chipper jones
score first play, you the type to need a 5th & goal
b-tch got a dub in her lulus got her pigeon toed
sleeve nash specialize in pick n’ rolls and give-and-gos
reach for this chain get em blew (blue) call em indigo
spend it while i can, i don’t know if i’m livin long
shoutout unky in the kitchen call him mister get it gone
mama said if you start weak, gotta finish strong
i guess i took that sh-t and ran with it
wouldn’t start beef, that’s that sh-t that had yo mans missin
in the land rover goin fast might not land in it
if i miss a shot i can guarantee that stan hit it
ima livin legend, you a poor bum
why you talkin sh-t better make sure them [?] done
scam god ran it up by my fourth run
christian loubs got me stickin out like a sore thumb

[verse 4]
(jose the plug, jose the plug, primo beats, what up jose, what up primo, hey, hey, hey, yeah, b-tch)

in the black cat, see my drive by that’s bad luck
quarter of the runtz, deuce of wocky, i can’t stand up
these the newest white buffs, you can ask hutch
stop flashing ten, i just did that off the last punch
ksubis full of dog sh-t, i had to pull my pants up
stop with the tough [?] just because your mans [?]
stop with the rich act, flashing all your pop’s money
i’ll rip a thousand in your face, this ain’t no prop money
let me see that pint, dude, i think your wock funny
white hanes in the christian loubies, left the socks bl–dy
white tee from the liquor store, if you know you know
he won’t even look me in the eyes, he a hoe fo’ sho’
the way i’m ballin’ around this b-tch, i think i’m going pro
before you hop up in the game, you better know the ropes
ridin’ with the tint, because i’m hip to all the jealousy
living life a king, never could you peasant me
catching up to me in life, sh-t, maybe eventually
i’m like a door, you got to pull it ain’t no pressing me (phew, d-mn, d-mn)
i’m like a door, you got to pull it ain’t no pressing me

- babytron

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