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levels - j. stone 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 f*ck 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 n*ggas 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 b*tch still choosing (still choosing up)
rolling down crenshaw cruising (still rolling)
bending corners to my own music
i’m the driver n*gga and my own shooter
i’m the driver n*gga and my own shooter

[verse 2: bun b]
say n*gga 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 sh*t 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 n*gga 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 n*gga and my own driver
i’m the shooter n*gga and my own driver
[verse 3: trae t\ha truth]
real legends n*ggas 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 n*ggas suckers, better know we don’t f*ck with no hater
how they ain’t even at the table but looking for waiters and
n*gga 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 k!lling yeah
brody told me keep my cool f*ck it  i’m chilling
f*ck water by the neck dripping feel like its spilling
i’m this maybach trucking, women i’m f*cking
topic of a n*gga discussion, why they keep rushing
trying to see how n*ggas be opps, n*ggas be ducking
n*ggas out here fake on the ground, should have been hustling
yeah i was cold but sh*t i should have been colder
play with the chopper, you see that b*tch on my shoulder
so n*ggas 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, n*gga ain’t rushing nothing
i was just taking time, tryna get paid from it
feel like a motivation, us n*ggas ain’t have nothing
went made the stage of it, b*tch, i was made from it
[outro: j. stone]
la n*gga with the h*town b*tch
west side n*gga on my pa sh*t
south central n*gga on my d*town sh*t, uh
la n*gga with the h*town b*tch
west side n*gga on my pa sh*t
south central n*gga on my d*town sh*t, uh

- j stone lyrics

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