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Freddie Gibbs, Madlib - Massage Seats

Massage Seats
Freddie Gibbs, Madlib
02:27
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Song 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,
Floatin' 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 Bull Dog, 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' jacked 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 talmbout, I was hittin' r&b bitches when a nigga was broke and shit, you knamsayin', nigga? You knamsayin'? Platinum bitches, you knahmean? Bitches on the charts, you feel me? Yeah! You know what I mean, not just really big bitches tryna get on, you knamsayin'?
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 contracts,
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,
Floatin' 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 knamsayin'? (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 mothafuckin' auntie Benz, nigga!"

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