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Correct OilBass Lyrics
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The Cool Kids
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Correct OilBass
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[Verse 1: Boldy James] Bass grinding to them pops Eighty five for the tops Speeding out to the trace Twenty five for the flake Thirty five for a block Eighteen for the head Ninety five for the quad Fifty five for an eight Twenty eight for the splint Twelve hundred for a zint Wait to work while it's wet and let it dry from the plate Cuz borrowed a quarter from me, can't shove a loyal to me Scraping up that lawyer money, he just caught another case Turned down to twelve straights Pack it up in oil tents Makin' forty off the breeky, but he triple out of state Different rentals switchin' plates With the kibbles and them bits Saw my niggas shootin' trisp Playing with them 1008 Missed call from the plug Brody calling from the clink Water running in the sink Blake Griffin off the brink Alley-oop aboard the rim Work jumping out the gym Dog running out the stem But they love that OilBass [Verse 2: Sir Michael Rocks] I was stayin' in Kailua You was stayin' in the sewer Hundred grand on computers Thousand dollar graphic card When you still cracking cards Lemme put em' in their place Like i'm working real estate Put these niggas in the cape Always tryna save a thot You forgot about the guap 3D printin' me an ounce Got it from a Google doc Reinvest it in the wrap BPS in red and black Sounds poppin' where i'm at Ain't no mercy for a rat I bet she poppin' now APC drop, I'm down Bitch was flexing, say she rich from pension Yeah she drop em' down Pick em' up and hop into the whip when niggas not around Type to fuck a nigga in your crib when you outta town, (ooh) Need a body bra Hold a shot of [?] Type to tell twelve that I'm gone when I got a high Chop it up and put it on a plate like it's À la carte But she knew it was that OilBass, cause it wouldn't drive [Verse 3: Chuck Inglish] Ay yo I'm at the dry-cleaners Fat strings in my Adidas Boombox and Hip-Hopin' out the motherfuckin' Beemer Moochi pulled up in the side, dog, I had to rethink it I gotta get another job and count it up in the machine Cracking numbers Padded leather on my jumper Follow through with the wrist when you whip it Square your shoulders, I don't know it Just to show it Costs a brick to break it open And I told your goofy ass When you met her, she was gone Bet it back, six five let it crack, (ay) Don't you touch shit, I'll count it where it's at The stone cold stunner come and drop you on your neck Ted DiBiase, that's a million dollar plan Damn, and, you dropped a 100k just to get that shit snatched when you got to L.A., Them niggas made you buy it back, why you lying in your raps? If you ain't bought that bag, then you pinching out the sack, nigga
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