Level 256 (feat. Bernz)

Playing till level 2, 5, 6, just to say that it exists. I ain't turning off the power till I see the final hour. Level 2, 5, 6, just to say I fucking did I ain't turning off the power till a final hour Never ending, rigging the social engine. Half of us just pretending while other half is ascending. Who me? I been on my next shit, always checking for exits. Fighting with my depressions and making shit that's infectious But it's constant evolving, this shit ain't never stopping. Until I hit the glitch with all the doubt that we recording. Better get all of this knowledge before it dries up. You see I still ain't lost my polish, I'm fresh out the box We astronauts, floating in space, not slowing the pace. Always in play, raising the stakes. Each level I taste, see in your face. You've been displaced and lied to your face. And all it took was a good story and the data's erased. But since my youth I've been attracted to what's lying beneath So stick some soap inside they mouth, they lying right through they teeth. I'ma keep playing till I reach the highest level I see. And pass down them cheat codes to my family. So I guess the ghost will chase me, hit me up on a monthly basis again We fight a test of patience, check yourself and write the statement. Like an agent's matrix, it's all a simulation. Programmed till I'm fully integrated. Modeled up and renovated, but it's not till they hit the pavement. Jumping around, so many sounds. Overloaded the corrupt decoding, broken games you sold me Opened up for produce, gobbling them up, watching them run. Shook and pale and blue, looking like I'm the best too. Playing till level 2, 5, 6, just to say that it exists. I ain't turning off the power till I see the final hour. Level 2, 5, 6, just to say I fucking did. I ain't turning off the power till the final hour Final hour, playing 2, 5, 6, just to say that it exists. I ain't turning off the power till I see the final hour. Level 2, 5, 6, just to say I fucking did. I ain't turning off the power till the final hour Trust me, I'm addicted cause the messages was cryptic. Bingeing like it's Netflix after breakfast, tuned into a frequency. You can see, 2020 and all its lunacy. But the question is, who is he? Running circles back and forth, on reversal, practice and rehearsal. Acting geeky on his Urkle, but the ego's always hurtful. When we change up and disrupt, putting fist up in the air. Just a victim to the system, and I'm asking if she's even still there Is she still there