Massage Seats lyrics

[Intro]
Yeah, b*tch say what's up, I said, uh
n*gga, flip a brick
b*tch ask me what's up, I said, uh
Pimp a b*tch
Diamonds in the woodgrain wheel, n*gga
n*gga, 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 dogs eat
44 Bulldog, all my dogs bite
Flexin' AMG, pushin' redline through the red light
Spot a pus*y boy with a red dot, bust a headshot
They got us in the scope, all this bread talk really fed talk
Yeah, n*gga, f*ck 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 n*ggas don't understand
This ain't for soccer mamas, this for the underground
n*ggas was the sh*t 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, b*tch, who the menace?
[Interlude]
Yeah, Kane, n*gga
And I was hittin' b*tches, I'm talkin' 'bout
I was hittin' R&B b*tches
When a n*gga was broke and sh*t, you know what I'm sayin', n*gga?
You know what I'm sayin'?
Platinum b*tches, you know what I mean?
b*tches on the charts, you feel me? Yeah
You know what I mean, not just really big b*tches tryna get on, you know what I'm sayin'?
Yeah, Kane Season

[Verse 2]
Yeah, n*gga, f*ck 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 pus*y do the money dance (Yeah)
I should have a tux on in this b*tch, 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 (b*tch)
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 n*gga head, that's a trap contract
And catch him with a carful and push they whole sh*t back (Baow)
Seats in the 600, push they whole sh*t back
I flip a flow and do a show and get the whole clique racks, b*tch
Whippin' Earl Simmons, all my dogs eat (Yeah)
Golden State the roster, my garage deep (Yeah)
Floating in the foreign on massage seats
[Outro]
Yeah, see, you gotta see, n*gga, you know, you gotta understand (Yeah)
I'm from Gary, n*ggas ain't used to no, no foreign cars, you know what I'm sayin'? (f*ck n*gga)
Like, I remember when
When that n*gga Ced came through with the
C, C230 or some sh*t, C or E class, some sh*t
I'm like, "n*gga? Get out that motherf*ckin' auntie Benz, n*gga"