Level 3

Level 3 Lyrics Trademark Da Skydiver feat. Curren$y

Mixtape: Flamingo Barnes

[Verse 1: Curren$y]

Ugh, drill rudders. Ceramic brakes, homie what does it take pimpin
Can you afford that, modeling make high
Many horses, listen to the floders
44 foot sea rate, like boating
Ain't step on the other one. since mardi gras marlin
What a wild party that was, them bitches was horny
Rain dancing, raising champagne glasses, pouring
Bottles out for the homies that I haven't forgot about
The ones that I'm always writing about
Get high, ride for 'em, looking through the clouds, no they see me coming down
Al coupe steering wheel, dash forest fire I'mma burn it down
Seats leather, chevy heavy. Them lightweight niggas to feathery
Ducked chracteristics, that'll make you bitch switch teams
Pull up in that bently and your bitch skipped the scene like the CD scratch
These hoes was sleep, now they wanna wake up by me
"Audio Dope" i'll make 'em relapse. Baby gurl relax
I'll be back in'a minute, but now roll that

[Verse 2: Trademark Da Skydiver]

Trademark touchin bread cause I'm well connected
Bossed up, real nigga 'till I'm laying breathless
I came for the cash and checks what 'chall expected
Check it, I'm high as fuck, young, wild and reckless
You guessed it. I'mma get mine before I exit
Respect it, my freshness, my style, my message
Cause ain't nobody fuckin with me now. No questions
I'm on another level from these niggas, I left 'em
In the dirt or in the air, reclined on leathers
First class, purp stash in my ralph bag, smell it?
Oh really?, I don't give a fuck what they gon' tell me
I done made it, from the bottom to the top, and I upgraded
But still I remain underrated and overhated, but fuck it
The real of me so ugh, I'm celebrated
Ridin' old schools but the paints updated
I ride right in town, take my place at the table
Talk a lot of shit because I am able
To back it up its just me. I don't need to set the start, actin tough
It's a wrap, pack it up. Mingles bag, what the fuck? I'm in the cut, rolling up
Who you know, high as us?

[Verse 3: Young Roddy]

And I still whip the wheel like it's stolen
Smoke a new J into a coma
Sky's the limit. what this road offers
I try to warn niggas, they don't want it
Niggas got me fucked up, they dont know me
From the cradle to the grave I get money
I stay humble, loyal to the key I keep it 100
And I kick that ill shit, like I'm puntin
And even in the (?) nigga kept his hood bumpin
I gained a few stripes in this concrete jungle
Niggas can't keep me down I'm a hustler
Hoping I don't blow, then it's fuck ya
I'm on my legal grind, (Revvie Russel?)
Direct me to the money, I'll be back with a duffel
So close to the edge they might bungie, ya'll pray for 'em
Sleeping on my skills, they'll pay for it
Checkmate, make your move playboy
Live from the set, Bitch, better not miss this jet

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