Release date: July 25, 2025
Tracks: 30
Album: MASA
Genre: HIP-HOP/RAP
Label: Never Broke Again & Motown Records
MASA: Official Tracklist & Lyrics
- My ***
- Games Of War
- ***
- Get Up With Us
- Fire Your Manager
- BIG
- I’m Ready
- Morocco
- Cold World
- No ***
- Burn
- Alter
- Slimretta
- Myself Pt. 2
- Cash ***
- Combat Boots
- Wine & Dine
- *** The Drugs
- Lo
- If You Need Me
- MASA
- Kickboxer
- When Time Pass
- Priorities
- Peepin
- Diesel
- Shot Callin
- Finest
- Where I Been
- Top Tingz
Lyrical Insights & Track Meanings
“My ***”
Brimming with bravado and menace, “My ***” finds Birdman Jr. flexing designer drip, street loyalty, and lethal firepower over a menacing Slimeto beat. The lyrics oscillate between opulent flexes (Issey Miyake, tropical diamonds) and violent threats (“unalived,” “38 North”), painting a world where respect is non-negotiable.
“Games Of War”
A raw, unflinching flex—”Games Of War” is trap bravado laced with survivalist grit. Money, violence, and street alchemy collide over menacing beats as the rapper flaunts hard-earned success while wrestling with his past. The chorus loops like a mantra, hammering home hustle as identity. No glamor, just grind.
“***”
A chaotic, hedonistic anthem drenched in nihilism, “***” weaponizes repetition—grinding “*** and violence” into a mantra of reckless abandon. Young Thug’s slurred autopilot flow slithers over eerie production, blurring bravado and self-destruction. Political quips (“no Biden,” Trump nods) feel tossed-off, amplifying the track
“Get Up With Us”
A brutal, unflinching street anthem, “Get Up With Us” thrives on menace—MarsGawd’s icy delivery and trap artillery beats paint a world of ruthless retribution. The “Make America Slime Again” hook twists political satire into gangland bravado, while gunplay boasts land with chilling precision. Dark, chaotic, and unapologetically raw. (238
“Fire Your Manager”
Carti and YoungBoy unleash a chaotic flex anthem, blending designer decadence and street bravado over hypnotic beats. Carti’s ad-lib-heavy flow dances between paranoia and opulence (“If you see my account, you’ll fire your manager”), while YB’s raw, melodic aggression sharpens the edge. Their chemistry thrives in reckless energy—luxury cars, demon
“BIG”
Cub$kout’s “BIG” is a brash, unapologetic flex—luxury whips and street grit collide over Veno’s menacing production. The lyrics paint a portrait of ruthless ambition, where past crimes fuel present riches, and every boast (“Big pendant, big watch, big knots”) drips with defiance. The Backyardigans reference twists
“I’m Ready”
YoungBoy’s “I’m Ready” is a defiant anthem of resilience, blending raw street narratives with unshakable ambition. Over haunting production, he reflects on past struggles—jail, betrayal, grinding from nothing—while declaring his relentless focus on success. The French intro adds a cinematic flair, contrasting luxury with his hardened reality. His flow oscillates between wounded introspection and explosive confidence,
“Morocco”
MarsGawd’s “Morocco” aches with raw regret and restless ambition—grappling with lost love, fame’s isolation, and fractured promises over moody, bass-heavy production. The chorus lingers on haunting “what ifs” of family and happiness, while the verse spills confessionals about ego, change, and the weight of the stage. That distant iPhone call from Morocco
“Cold World”
YB & Mellow Rackz paint a ruthless, opulent portrait of survival in a “Cold World”—luxury cars, designer flexes, and paranoia swirl over TnT’s icy beat. The chorus’s swagger contrasts with YB’s raw verse about trauma (“they murdered my cousins”) and hustle, while Mellow’s flow drips with unapolog
“No ***”
YoungBoy’s “No ***” is a raw, unfiltered eruption of street vengeance and unshakable pride. Over Malik’s haunting production, he snarls through tales of betrayal, survival, and luxury earned through chaos—flipping trauma into triumph. The lyrics oscillate between chilling threats (“bought my *** *** out the park”) and flashes of vulnerability (“my
“Burn”
Juice WRLD’s “Burn” crackles with raw defiance and street-worn swagger, blending ***-talk bravado with flashes of emotional fatigue. His flow slithers over menacing 808s, painting a life of chaos—money, violence, and turbulent love—while the chorus’s hook (“I watch this all burn”) feels like a nihilistic mantra.
“Alter”
“Alter” is a raw confessional, blending struggle and salvation over haunting production. The lyrics ache with vulnerability—childhood lack, maternal pain, street survival—yet shimmer with hope, framing love as redemption. The altar motif becomes both spiritual cleansing and emotional refuge, while the chorus’s weary repetition mirrors the grind. Diamonds hit harder when the soul’s still bruised. A baptism
“Slimretta”
YB’s “Slimretta” is a raw, unflinching flex—boasting street credibility, sexual bravado, and loyalty over eerie, minimalist production. His flow slithers between menace and magnetism, name-dropping Kendell and slime-infused romance while taunting rivals with lethal confidence. The ad-libs hum like a threat, sealing his defiant, chaotic
“Myself Pt. 2”
Slimeto flexes raw duality—boasting trap bravado while wrestling with self-doubt over Henry Daher’s menacing beat. The chorus’s internal conflict (“I can’t stand myself”) cuts through ***-talk and sexual swagger, revealing vulnerability beneath the icy delivery. Adlibs hiss like warning shots as 21 Savage’s influence bleeds into the cad
“Cash ***”
Megan Thee Stallion flexes with unapologetic bravado on “Cash ***,” blending luxury boasts and street grit over KTOE’s hypnotic, bass-heavy beat. Her flow snaps between playful arrogance (“Birkin yellow, Birkin lime”) and icy threats (“name on a bullet”), painting a vivid portrait of power, wealth, and Atlanta swagger. The Emerald
“Combat Boots”
A gritty anthem of survival and triumph, “Combat Boots” stomps through Kevin Gates’ raw Baton Rouge roots with menacing production. His raspy flow weaves street parables—jail silence turned Ferrari dreams, hunger fueling ruthless ambition. The chorus is a battle cry: from cell blocks to millions, betrayal sharpens his grind. Menace’s haunting beat underscores Gates’
“Wine & Dine”
“Wine & Dine” drips with hedonistic swagger, blending hypnotic Mylo production with India’s razor-sharp delivery. The lyrics revel in excess—luxury, lust, and street bravado collide as she flaunts power dynamics, fetishizing control (“My cup runnin’ over, the *** better catch it”). A brash anthem where vulnerability
“*** The Drugs”
YoungBoy’s “*** The Drugs” is a raw, chaotic confessional—blurring hedonism and vulnerability over haunting production. He flips addiction into defiance, snarling at substances while still trapped in their grip. The lyrics oscillate between braggadocio (“Audemar, it’s stainless steel”) and pain (“we walked through hell for years”), mirroring his
“Lo”
“Lo” is a raw, unfiltered trap anthem dripping with menace and bravado. ISM’s flow slithers over haunting production as he flexes loyalty (“keepin’ it trill”), vengeance (“step on my opps”), and unapologetic hedonism. The repeated chorus anchors the track in street-code ethos—trust no one, chase power, fl
“If You Need Me”
Lil Baby’s “If You Need Me” simmers with raw vulnerability and street-hardened devotion, blending late-night yearning with unshakable loyalty. Over TrillGotThatJuice’s moody, hypnotic production, Baby’s raspy flow swings between romantic reassurance (“wipe your eyes, I know you seein’ blurry”) and braggadocious flex
“MASA”
A defiant flex laced with menace, “MASA” rides on Henry’s razor-sharp delivery and Haisofn’s trunk-rattling beat. The track blends opulent boasts (“Range Rover like she Kim”) with street grit (“let off thirty when I see him”), framing success as survival. The recurring “MASA” chant becomes a war cry—equal parts triumph and
“Kickboxer”
“Kickboxer” flexes with reckless opulence—H2 Hummers, Prada coats, and icy diamonds—as YSL’s Top flaunts his gutter-to-glory hustle. Mally Mall’s production throbs with trap bravado, blending martial arts swagger (“taekwondo,” “kickboxer”) with hedonistic punchlines. The
“When Time Pass”
A raw, aching meditation on struggle & time’s weight, “When Time Pass” bleeds vulnerability over Simo Fre’s haunting production. Henry’s verses unravel like late-night confessions—financial strain, fractured love, generational pain—while clinging to resilience. The chorus lingers like a mantra, balancing despair with determination. Those ad-libs (“Henry, you ate this”)
“Priorities”
Luxury and detachment collide in “Priorities” as YB flaunts wealth, women, and cold ambition over hypnotic trap beats. Chrome Hearts jeans and Lakers reruns frame his hedonistic world, where fleeting connections outweigh loyalty. The production’s dark, bass-heavy swirl mirrors his unapologetic flex—balling hard, dodging love, and stacking power. A
“Peepin”
“Peepin” drips with streetwise paranoia and hardened reflection, blending flexes with vulnerability. NBA YoungBoy’s raspy delivery underscores the tension—luxury whips and jets clash with trust issues and looming violence. The chorus is a mantra of survival: fake love fades, only real ones remain. Production throbs with menace, mirroring his rollercoaster of betrayal
“Diesel”
NBA YoungBoy’s “Diesel” is a raw, unapologetic flex—luxury watches, violent bravado, and relentless hustle collide over menacing beats. His flow drips with defiance, flaunting Pateks and pistols while mocking industry fakes. The chorus hooks with trap swagger, blending money, models, and menace. A testament to his unt
“Shot Callin”
Lil Top’s “Shot Callin” is a brash, unapologetic flex—luxury whips, street bravado, and icy detachment drip over menacing 808s. His flow slithers between boastful taunts and violent threats, painting a picture of ruthless ascent from struggle to power. The production’s dark, bass-heavy bounce mirrors his cold confidence
“Finest”
“Finest” is a raw confessional—Top’s verses bleed vulnerability over haunting production, wrestling faith, trauma, and street survival. His lyrics oscillate between divine pleas (“Prayin’ to the sky”) and brutal honesty (“I don’t really like me”), painting a fractured portrait of success laced with paranoia. The chorus’ juxtaposition of “thuggin’ at
“Where I Been”
Lil Top bares his scars in “Where I Been,” a raw confessional laced with haunting introspection. Over moody, minimalist production, he chronicles addiction, betrayal, and survival—his gravelly flow *** between hardened defiance and weary vulnerability. The track’s dark triumph lies in its honesty: “Real dark places where I been” becomes a mantra of resilience, punctuated by
“Top Tingz”
“Top Tingz” is a raw, hedonistic anthem dripping with unapologetic lust—Tyreek’s production throbs with bass-heavy swagger as the lyrics blur raunchy boasts and blunt seduction. The track’s relentless, repetitive hooks mirror its single-minded focus on carnal pleasure, while ad-libs and slippery flows amplify the chaotic energy. A no-holds