Massage Seats (feat. Madlib)

Freddie Gibbs

Compositor: Madlib & Freddie Gibbs

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 dogs eat
44 bulldog, all my dogs 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' jacked 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 (woo)
Touchdown in the chi and make that pussy do the money dance (yeah)
I should have a tux on in this bitch, me and money make holy matrimony (yeah)
Shot caller, put them shooters on you like d'antoni
Top dollar, lock me up and I make the bond, no (yeah)
Big baller, father, you my son like lonzo (bitch)
Entertainer with a lot of trap contacts (for sure)
We pushin' packs 'cause in this rap, it ain't no max contracts
Put fifty on a nigga head, that's a trap contract
And catch him with a carful and push they whole shit back (baow)
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 dogs eat (yeah)
Golden state the roster, my garage deep (yeah)
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