Oilbass - The Cool Kids, BOLDY JAMES, Helios Hussain

Basslinin' to them pops

Eighty five for the top

Speeding out to the trades

Twenty five for the flake

Thirty five for a block

Eighteen for the half

Ninety five for the quarter

Fifty five for an eighth

Twenty eight for the split

Twelve hundred for a zip

Weigh the work while it’s wet

And let it dry from the plate

Cuz bought a quarter from me

Can’t sure he’ll be loyal to me

Scraping up that lawyer money

He just caught another case

Tie it down to twelve straights

Pack it up in all tens

Makin' forty off the bricky

But he triple out of state

Different rentals, switchin' plates

With the kibbles and them bits

All my niggas shootin' trips

Playing with them 10 0−8

Missed call from the plug

But he callin' from the clink

Water runnin' in the sink

Blake Griffin off the break

Alley-oop up at the rim

Work jumpin' off the gym

Dope runnin' off the stem

But they love that oil-base

I was stayin' in Kahlua

You were stayin' in the sewer

Hundred grand on computer

Thousand dollar graphic card

When you still crackin' cars

Lemme put 'em in their place

Like I’m working real estate

Put these niggas in a cape

Always tryna save a dot

You forgot about the gwap

3D printed me an ounce

Got it from a Google doc

Reinvested in the rap

VPS and red and black

Sales poppin' where I’m at

Ain’t no mercy for a rat

I bet she poppin' now

APC, drop 'em down

Bitch was flexin', said she rich from pension

Yeah, she drop 'em down

Pick em' up and hop into the whip

When niggas not around

Type that fuck a nigga in your crib

When you outta town (ooh)

Ooh need a body brought

Haul that shawty out the car

Type to tell twelve that I’m gone when I gotta hide

Chop it up and put it on a plate like it’s a la carte

But she knew it was that oil-base

'Cause it wouldn’t dry

(Bass)

Eh yo

I’m at the dry-cleaners

Fat strings in my Adidas

Boomboxin', hip-hoppin' out the motherfuckin' Beamer

Moochie pulled up in a Saab, dawg, I had to rethink it

I gotta get another job and count it up in the machine

Crackin' numbers

Patent leather on my jumper

Follow through with the wrist

When you whip it, square your shoulders

I don’t know it, just to show it

Cost a brick to break it open

And I told your goofy ass when you met her, she was gone

Bend it back, six five, let it crack

Eh, don’t you touch shit

I gotta count it where it’s at

The stone cold stunner come and drop you on your neck

Ted DiBiase, that’s the million dollar plan

Damn, eh, you dropped a hunnid K

Just to get that shit snatched when you got to L.A.

Them niggas made you buy it back

Why you lying in your raps?

If you ain’t bought the bag

Then you pinching out the sack, nigga

You should come and vibe with me

(Bass)

(Bass)