Next Level

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 scorching Steak fiend, this the third time this week I hit Morton's Whip roaring, hopping out 'Iagas, only drip foreign Track one, step it, track one, swipe it Road running, shoutout Yachty, think that I'ma one night it Scat Pack with the wasp, finna buzz by him Where the tester at? I told your ass that these some Hutch diamonds Woke up, made a dub, you ain't even brush your teeth yet Hundred rounder just so he don't get the chance to cheat death If I slide down, it's only gon' 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 throwing High as hell 'cause the weed and the drink potent Bumped into Peezy up in Hutch, he told me, "keep going" Hey Hey Told my akhi grab his turban, time to firebomb some shit If you ain't down to die in the ride, then why you hopping in? MacBook open, blowing 'Woods, finna politic At Ruth's Chris, heard you still take McDonald's trips Match your four in his deuce, I just dropped a six Buffs on, pass some paper towel or some snot gon' drip Ele' Delle Donne, you shoot a shot, my bitch gon' block your shit I mean swat your shit, taking off like a rocket ship Mike Amiris skinny, 30K, now that's some thigh pads Hating on the ShittyBoyz, well, you gon' die mad Mister V12, fuck around and see me fly past Told the plug I need the whole 'bow, you copping dime bags What the fuck is going on nowadays? What up, Hokatiwi? (It's Hokatiwi) Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, bitch ShittyBoyz Down in the A with a stick, feel like Chipper Jones Score first play, you the type to need a fifth and goal Bitch got a dub in her Lulus, got her pigeon-toed Sleeve Nash, specialize in pick-and-rolls and give-and-gos Reach for this chain, get him blew, call him indigo Spend it while I can, I don't know if I'm living 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 shit and ran with it Wouldn't start beef, that's that shit that had your mans missing In the Land Rover going fast, might not land in it If I miss a shot, I can guarantee that Stan hit it I'm a living legend, you a poor bum Why you talking shit? Better make sure them chores done Scam god, ran it up by my fourth run Christian Loubs got me sticking out like a sore thumb (Jose the Plug) (Primo Beats on the track) What up, Jose? What up, Primo? Hey, hey, hey, yeah, yeah, bitch Hmm 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 shit, I had to pull my pants up Stop with the tough role just because your mans cut 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 bloody White tee from the liquor store, if you know, you know He won't even look me in the eyes, he a ho for sure The way I'm balling 'round this bitch, I think I'm going pro Before you hop up in the game, you better know the ropes Riding with the tint 'cause I'm hip to all the jealousy Living like a king, never could you peasant me Catching up to me in life, shit, maybe eventually I'm like a door you gotta pull, it ain't no pressing me Whew Yeah, yeah, yeah I'm like a door you gotta pull, it ain't no pressing me Huh, ayy, ShittyBoyz Dogshit Militia Whew, bitch