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"