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Correct Massage Seats Lyrics
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Artists: F
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Freddie Gibbs & Madlib
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Correct Massage Seats
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Lyrics:
[Intro] 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 [Verse 1] 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? [Interlude] 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 [Verse 2] 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 [Outro] 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"
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