“Lyrics”

God level
God level
Big door
Hall levels
Big bags
Hall metals
Fast lane
No pedals
Dark tint 
No schedule 
Ten toes
Won’t settle 
Ice cold
All kettles
God level
God level

Big up stick my partner Hit that lick no problem Whip too fast no honda Plug talk back in ghana
Took that trip no sponsor Brick so white it's contra Ran through packs like contra Beam on top that llama
Drip on drip no water Stay on go no drama VVS dance like salsa
Shoot like I'm from sparta Trap jump hard no harder Came up now I’m smarter Stick talk sound like carter
Chrome on me no armor
Boom boom that’s that shot
Boom Boom ran his spot Boom Boom don’t get got Boom Boom masked up glock
Boom Boom wrist on flock Boom Boom paid that cost If his ass get caught 
You know that’s that shot

“Umm mother fucker, that’s an mother fucking shot nigga, shit over the trees huh”

Bro he sip that hemron Wrist too cold that gem on Blick don’t talk no incom Streets too loud I been on
Spent that check no coupon Shooter move like recon Face get lit no neon
Everybody know what we on
How the fuck you gon kill for your brother if the killer ain’t dead yet Sayin all that pain in your heart but your eyes don’t shed sweat How you claim you slid for the block but your feet ain’t bled yet All them lies sound good in the stu but your opps ain’t fled yet
Tatted up that name on that skin but you ain’t got revenge yet Talkin all tough all that talk but your post got left on read next Whole block still waitin on smoke, but your stick ain't revved yet Momma still be cryin in church but your soul ain't fed yet
Bitch nigga what you waitin on my clique make red necks 
Catch him lackin broad day now his white tee got red specks
Hollows eat through vests I ain’t impressed with no thread checks
Slid through with that cutter now his face missin like FedEx 
If a nigga try and get at me we aim straight for his cousin We don’t do no warnin shots we just up sticks and rush in Brodie keep that fire tucked he pop out like it’s nothin All that dissin shit now your auntie miss her youngin
Better watch your words fore your shirt turn to an oven I don’t talk bout scores I let killers do the judging
We don’t shoot from far away we like to see who touchin Blicky got a nose on it i’ll sneeze it like it's snuffin I ain’t never call for help I send shooters in dozens
Ain’t no mercy when we come we take lives then we tuck it
Told my youngin if he miss, spin again, no discussion
If he hide out in his mama crib we press the button
Say it's smoke? We gon leave his body slumped and dunk it
You ain’t built? For this side you gon fold under somethin
Opps go ghost! When we slide like they heard death was comin
Glock hit loud! Like thunder we made his soul start jumpin hold on

LEVEL 3.0.0.0

!5.


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LEVEL 3.0.0.0

KENN APOLLO