Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Oilbass , by - The Cool Kids. Release date: 24.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Oilbass |
| 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) |