Freddie Gibbs, Madlib - Massage Seats lyrics
Freddie Gibbs [Fredrick Jamel Tipton] Gary, Indiana, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Freddie Gibbs, Madlib - Massage Seats lyrics]
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"
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"