Massage Seats

Yeah, bitch say what's up, I said, uh

Nigga, flip a brick

Bitch ask me what's up, I said, uh

Pimp a bitch

Diamonds in the woodgrain wheel, nigga

Nigga, Kane

Golden State the roster, my garage deep

Floating in the foreign on massage seats

Yeah, keep, keep designer on a broad feet

I been water whippin' Earl Simmons, all my dawgs eat

44 Bulldog, all my dawgs bite

Flexin' AMG, pushin' redline through the red light

Spot a pussy boy with a red dot, bust a headshot

They got us in the scope, all this bread talk really fed talk

Yeah, nigga, fuck it, get your money on

Still takin' calls on this money phone

Every Sunday morning, I hit Maurice with the MoneyGram

He was major league, I'm pitchin' softball, underhand

These niggas don't understand

This ain't for soccer mamas, this for the underground

Niggas was the shit last summer and now they numbers down

Rappers gettin' decked for they jewels, I keep that tool with me

I go Makaveli on Hugh's brothers, bitch, who the menace?

Yeah, Kane, nigga

And I was hittin' bitches, I'm talkin' 'bout

I was hittin' R&B bitches

When a nigga was broke and shit, you know what I'm sayin', nigga?

You know what I'm sayin'?

Platinum bitches, you know what I mean?

Bitches on the charts, you feel me? Yeah

You know what I mean,

Not just really big bitches tryna get on, you know what I'm sayin'?

Yeah, Kane Season

Yeah, nigga, fuck it, get your money on

Still takin' calls on this money phone (Yo, what up?)

Every Sunday morning, Keshia hit me with the MoneyGram

Touchdown in the Chi and make that pussy do the money dance

I should have a tux on in this bitch, me and money make holy matrimony

Shot caller, put them shooters on you like D'Antoni

Top dollar, lock me up and I make the bond, no

Big baller, father, you my son like Lonzo (Bitch)

Entertainer with a lot of trap contacts

We pushin' packs 'cause in this rap, it ain't no max contract

With fifty on a nigga head, that's a trap contract

And catch him with a car full and push they whole shit back

Seats in the 600, push they whole shit back

I flip a flow and do a show and get the whole clique racks, bitch

Whippin' Earl Simmons, all my dawgs eat

Golden State the roster, my garage deep

Floating in the foreign on massage seats

Yeah, see, you gotta see, nigga, you know, you gotta understand (Yeah)

I'm from Gary, niggas ain't used to no,

No foreign cars, you know what I'm sayin'? (Fuck nigga)

Like, I remember when

When that nigga Ced came through with the

C, C230 or some shit, C or E class, some shit

I'm like "Nigga? Get out that motherfuckin' auntie Benz, nigga"