Final Level - BabyTron: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Final Level

524

Hip-Hop/Rap

Final Level was released on August 1, 2025 by The Hip Hop Lab Records / EMPIRE as a part of the album Luka Troncic 2

Song Details

AlbumLuka Troncic 2

Release DateAugust 1, 2025

LabelThe Hip Hop Lab Records / EMPIRE

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM96

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

BabyTron

Vocals

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

James Johnson IV

James Johnson IV

Songwriter

Bernabe Rivas

Songwriter

Jakob A Sandstedt

Jakob A Sandstedt

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

Jakesand

Producer

JRDN

Producer

Getta Beats

Producer

LeeChoppn

Producer

Sav

Producer

Lyrics

[Intro]

Damn, Jakesand

Hey, you know me, bitch, I'ma flex until I pull a muscle

You know me, bitch, I'ma flex until I, aye

You know me, bitch, I'ma flex until I pull a muscle

[Verse 1]

When it come to whole cars, you know Militia pulled a couple

Human cheat code, I might come quintuple, double

Fine shit, pulled up with her best friend, double trouble

Scammin' or the rappin', either way, I'll punch for punchin'

Might be Hollywood, but fuck a double, I'll stunt for stuntin'

Unfuckwithables, boy, I'll runs for runsin'

Meet me in the VIP section, I'll slug for sluggie

If I catch a young opp, I'll have lil' cousin, jump 'em

All he do is stab that not lil' blood just stuck with bunions

Caught him tryna get some chips and turned the stupid fuck to Funyuns

Half the time, I'm in the lab, the other half, I'm in the dungeon

We'll whack yo' brother, scam yo' granny, stab yo' cousin

Heard you rollin' up some loud, I'm pullin' up to match the ruckus

Luka Troncic, just take me to the Rucker, I done mastered buckets

Seen the demons I was fightin', boy,? I had the pastor runnin'

She got a thousand dollar wig for me to ash my blunt in

First stop, Selfridges, every time I land in London

Boy, I'm so independent, I forgot I had a budget

You won't hear me ask for nothin', started off with trackin' numbers

[Bridge]

Wha

Ghetto Beats

Dog$hit Militia

Long live $cam, R.I.P. Chris

You hipskits, T-double-HL shit

[Verse 2]

Hey, fresh off the road, bugs splattered on the windshield

734, baby, out here dodgin' Pittsfield

I been on the road since I played the big wheel

Five mil' just popped up in the bank, it ain't no big deal

Lil' bro would steal anything, Dyson Daniels

And I can't get him off the block, guess he Tyson Chandler

You only got one badge and that's the iron chapter

Bitch so cold, call the double, I might try to trap her

We done bust jugs from wilin' pop down to square packed

We done had any for them jacks on what was Airway

Shit, your life for this chain, that's a fair trade

Hunnid dollars, zaga zaga pack it, hit like bear maze

Jumpin' off the porch, got 'em left on the staircase

Don't you know the game, that we in it? Ain't no fair play

She a ten, barefaced, bro, will kill you barefaced

When I walk in, you feel the aura through the airways

You say yo BD ain't a ham, yeah, bitch, alright

If I get Habibi, just a band, yeah, it's your life

Looked at the Rollie then the mirror, shit, it's showtime

In the Bay let 'em try somethin', I bet a Bip he die

[Bridge]

Nah

My **** Lee, I think he got me

What the fuck? I think I'm laced, bruh, what the fuck?

Hmm, nah, hmm, hmm, huh, heh

[Verse 3]

Step on opps like they bugs, you can't shop with my plug

Double- deuced it in a two liter, guess I dropped a dub

Stashed a milli' in the floor, I guess it's time to shop for rugs

I hear savin' all these hoes, he must've came from Gotham, huh?

Amiri's full of doggy dookie, you would think I got the runs

Tables turned, it ain't fun when the rabbit got the gun

Probably think Tron a Genie, he got magic bottled up

Brodie burnin' everything, he finna magic Johnson some

You still wouldn't catch a wave down in Santa Monica

Airy Pop, Wockified, the Havana Zaga stuff

We done horsed him out his new cups, he a Prada pup

Fuck the coins out her every time, that's my sonic slut

[Bridge]

Nah

[Verse 4]

Ah, shit, lil' bitch drunk, talkin' 'bout pull up to Love & Tequila

He done earned so many stripes, I'm thinkin' lil' bloody a Zebra

I can't get this bitch to fuckin' leave, she must love her a cheater

2020 shit, I probably ran a hunnid up off features

Another hunnid off the Calis, 'nother one off beepers

Another one off PPP, like ain't that half a ticket?

Let me chill out 'fore they lock me, shit, let's get back to business

When it come to Michigan, you think of me? Huh

You think of Meeks, think of T, think of Meech

He don't practice what he preach, call him Reverend Rinky Dink

I wouldn't cuff that lil' bitch if she was into kinky things

Bumfuck Egypt, bitch, I'm out in BFE

Young Thug did the joggy, this is not no CSG

Got the bitch in my palms, finna play her, PSP

Back in the 313, the AP on PST

I been playin' hoes before they dropped the PS3

Hit the brick like couture, lock it up like GSP

T-M-N-T, yo' boss, he a rat

I slap a flame out 'em, shit, just toss me a rack

Oversized rule grabbin' tall tees out of sacks

I can't do no raw comes, all leasin' raps

I done hit some ghetto shit, but they was all decent racks

They used to all DND me, I don't call people back, you know

[Verse 5]

Huh, it's on the flow, that's what you gotta know

You gotta know if twin rock, then I gotta roll

Bank account look like a box of donuts, it's a lot of Os

I know y'all love the old Tron, but don't y'all see a lot of growth?

Catch you likin' opps pictures, that's gon' get you followed home

Who ain't feed they bitch? I just pulled up and got swallowed whole

Bitch a alcoholic and a thief, where the bottle go?

Pop, pop to her middle part, we don't honor those

My YN's out of control, they don't follow code

Million dollars worth of guns, shit, we got walow polls

Neff ain't got a dollar bill, but he got a kill

Brodie like to drop him in his pop, he don't pop the pills

Mmm, mmm, my closet look like StockX

Bitch prime was seven years ago up in that prom dress

We had him scared to go to work just like a bomb threat

Turn the volume down, you know you heard what mom said

Headass, geek kissin' mid-packs

Never flew privately, stop sayin' you got jet lag

I been one ROTY, now I'm in my vet bag

Ho a big body Benz, hashtag rake that

[Verse 6]

Ooh, shit, that's a Danny G beat

I had my shooter hit a Danny Green three

If you don't got a kill, switch your skatie freebies

Just pour the whole pint, you ever had heebie- jeebies?

Would've thought you scam, all you do is hang with frauds

Bitch real petite, but her ass dinged a Moss

November 27th, I'ma give a thanks to y'all

We don't want the lil' worker, no, we gon' spank the boss, pause

Cam thought he got some hard, no, all of them just mothballs

M523, bitch, I'm teed like a golf ball

He was him back then, lieutenant lost cause

Balls to the wall, hit her so hard she called off

The dog head used to bark, but it froze to death

Balenciaga sneaks, that's the only time I show the stress

Boy, you gon' knock yourself out, gimme that soda next

Save me from Southfield Freeway down to Bouldercrest

Open-hand smack, you done leave with a closed casket

I don't go, well, no, this how I vote practice

Say yay, all I wanna do is go baskets

Brutality, this lil' ho in here soul snatchin'

Lil' slut stay outside like a dope addict

Interstate or all March, it was road madness

Double 7 past the wood, I'ma roll the Mavericks

They just flowin' out my brain, I ain't roll to catch 'em

Boy, your phone wouldn't ring if you was Frodo Baggins

Ls don't even matter, bronem in the stolo schmackin'

Ls don't even matter, boy, charge into the game

Body full of drugs, heart full of pain

Where that one Tris? Bitch, we pourin' part down the drain

Why you talkin' stats? Never started a game

Ryan went on 10, he drove his car to his grave

I can't love you, bitch, I left my heart at the bank

[Bridge]

Mmm-mmm-hmmm, I guess this to find the real shit

Ooh, sav, killed it

[Verse 7]

R.I.P. Mari, R.I.P. Chris, y'all lit a flame

Take a seat up in the bleachers, lil' bro, I'm givin' game

Why you got your hand out? It ain't a giveaway

Tryna ride our wave like a cruise, make 'em hit the plane

More chicken than a farmer, still he made me hit the hay

He dressed like it's O-18, LOL is givin' laced

Stag my pape like a giant, catch plays with Lee Mays

Right wrist pissy, but the left one the shitty face

Sometimes I wanna get away and go off to a paradise

But life's short, so I'm gamblin' with it like a paradise

I'm finna take you to the sky, bae, hope you ain't scared of heights

Boy, I popped out so clean, you'd think the fit was sterilized

Huh, shitty boys, this the final level

He shook our hand before we signed him, shit, he died respectful

Bust on yo' bitch face, treat her like the bezel

Troncic, Troncic, Troncic, Troncic

Written by: Bernabe Rivas, Jakob A Sandstedt, James Johnson IV

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