MY LEVEL lyrics

[Intro]
b*tch, you got so much motherf*cking heart, b*tch, swing
C'mon, swing, one- one more time (Don't touch my girl, mama, let her get down)
Swing, n*gga, swing, swing (Just mop her ass up and get it over with)
(I bet she ain't doing nothing but talking)
Swing (She don't wanna get down)
Swing, that's all I want you to do, is swing (She bipolar)
'Cause I know you motherf*cking crazy (She bipolar, girl)
Like, swing (Yeah, and get a check right?)
I don't know what the f*ck you get and don't give a f*ck
But I want you to swing (Yeah), if I have to whoop your ass on this goddamn bus, I-

[Verse 1: Lil Yachty]
I'm rich as a b*tch and you not on my level, you digging, no shovel, I know you do
A million-one kids come up to me every day and tell me "Look, Lil Boat, I'm the younger you"
I eat on that pus*y, thеn beat it, mistreat it, I'm recklеss, got gold on my necklace
My brother control all the blocks just like Tetris, he dropped out, the next day he made a killing
Free that n*gga out the state prison
They f*ck with Lil Boat 'cause the way I'm driven
I'm driftin' that six off the road
Bet a buck that my n*ggas won't fold
You a b*tch and I know you a hoe, real n*gga head to toe
Sock a n*gga dead in front of his b*tch
Dig a hole and drop him off in a ditch, b*tch
b*tch, you keep f*cking up like a glitch
f*ckin' f*ck n*ggas hoes, that's my niche, beat his ass if he switch
Where he at, where he go? Prolly hidin' like a ho
Prolly trying to call his bro, I do not f*ck with n*ggas, hell no
Beat his ass, bare paw
[Bridge: Lil Yachty & Tyler, The Creator]
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Where they at? There they go
Swing (Swing), swing (Swing), swing (Swing, b*tch), swing (b*tch)
Swing (b*tch), swing (Hey, you got 'em Tyler), swing, swing (Haha, b*tch)

[Verse 2: Tyler, The Creator]
I ain't really with the, "Shoot 'em up, bang"
f*ck them n*ggas, nah, they ain't gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang
And me and them n*ggas, nah, we ain't the same thing
Better hope boy gon' call up the troops
I know some boys that'll shoot out the roof
Shoot out the roof, yeah, shoot out the roof
'Cause my doors go up, I could shoot out the coupe
Speed off, we off, n*gga, get off these nuts
Think T soft, nah, he hard
Got guns the size of Rick Ross' draws
Boy, you better go watch your tone
'Fore I get boys to watch your home
And watch your watch and take your wrist
And click-clack and clock your dome, boy
This ain't no real reason, we ain't got no treason
f*ck them missing knees in, knees in the business and breathin'
Boy, you'll be missin' and breathin' somewhere else
[?]
They be like "Where they at? There they go"
Body missing, no one knows, I don't know
My tax bracket made it so that I don't touch nobody
[Outro: Tyler, the Creator]
Inside a body, pada, with tada, body, ayy, tada, body, body
f*cking Prada and call somebody
Run me back