Artist: Freddie Gibbs & Madlib
Album:  Bandana
Song:   Massage Seats
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com, Cedmaster3K

[Intro]
Yeah!
Bitch say, "Wassup?", I said, "Uh..."
(Nigga flip a brick)
Bitch ask me, "Wassup?", I said, "Uh..."
(Pimp a bitch)
{Ya hear me? WHEEL UP!}
Diamonds in the woodgrain wheel, nigga 
Kane

[Freddie Gibbs]
Golden State the roster, my garage deep
Floating in the foreign on massage seats
Yeah, ke-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 bwoy 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 mommas, this for the underground 
Niggas was the shit last summer and now they numbers down (bitch)
Rappers gettin’ jacked for they jewels, I keep that tool with me
I go Makaveli on Hughes 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? {Ya hear me? WHEEL UP!}
You know what I’m sayin’? Platinum bitches, ya nah mean?
Bitches on the charts, you feel me? Yeah
Ya nah mean? Not just really big bitches tryna get on, you know what I’m sayin’?
(Kane Season) Nigga

[Freddie Gibbs]
Yeah, nigga fuck it, get your money on
Still takin' calls on this money phone (yo, what up?)
Every Sunday mornin' Keshia hit me with the MoneyGram (yeah)
Touched down in the Chi and make that pussy do the money dance (yeah)
I should have a tux on in this bitch, me and money make holy matrimony (uhh)
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
Whip-whippin' Earl Simmons, all my dawgs eat (yeah)
Golden State the roster, my garage deep (yeah)
Flo-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, you know
Foreign cars, you know what I'm sayin'? (fuck nigga)
Like I remember when {Ya hear me? WHEEL UP!}
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"