Oil Money

[Produced by Blended Babies] [Verse 1 - Chuck Inglish] Where do we have to go? I don't know, let me know where we end up Cause I’m not about to sit and watch it get us Just picture the stickers is on it And its flashy, flauntin‘, funny but them people only want that gold to pawn it I need that gold to wear it on the court like I’m Jordan Performin‘, I’m scorin’ way more than I’m supposed to And I’m lookin’ way better in person than my photos But lets not talk about me Lets talk about this If it’s too hot, then take your hands off Pass it like Joe Montana Champions Hats off, salute Now what do you look forward to, the landing or the take off Get back, cause them Apes I gotta Harlem Shake off I got the paint; I just need some shit to paint on [Hook - Dan Auerbach] This is a lullaby Not intended to make you cry But to open up your eyes And in this lullaby You got to do right Before you die Before you die [Verse 2 - Chip Tha Ripper] Cleveland nigga, wintertime I catch a flight to somewhere sunny Come to visit Fuck yo couch they shouldn’t have gave us niggas money For the honeys Like they woulda said in ‘94 Bumpin' Jodisee, and anything I say'll prolly go While we smoking in that ‘Lac truck, headed to the mall Now we coppin’ even though I left my wallet in the car Yeah she got it, deposit: we got it, good credit, good head, and it's all copasetic She cool and she get it, priceless And nice tits, she got that look twice chest, she righteous; we might just Valet the Mercedes in the front just to give ‘em what they want Cameras flashin’, hoppin’ out with the blunt [Hook] [Verse 3 - Freddie Gibbs] Who knew this rappin’ shit would pay off I’m firin’ up the kill like I got fired on my day off Seen a whole lotta niggas get broken by some broad they like to break off And the same old bitch they spent that change with be the same bitch I’m gon' shake off The monster of the mid yo Quick to Richard Dent a nigga Peace to all my OT hoes and the gifts they love to send a nigga Fresh white socks and a black d bones We done broke down bags with the realest niggas Spittin' these flows on stage at the show, blowin’ Optimos and Swishas witcha (Feel it nigga?) If y'all don't, then I can keep my day job Ski mask my uniform, them dope dealers gon' stay robbed T-top ceiling and my dank still stankin’ and I crush ya feelings like the Saints did Peyton [Hook] [Verse 4 - Bun B] Fresh pair of Levi’s, white tee, and 6 Carmines Hoppin’ out some 2010 shit; yes, the car’s mine Sittin’ in Corinthians sit back watch the stars shine I know you starstruck, shit I can leave a star blind Booyah, just like Isiah A playa, the pro bowl, the mayor I’m so cold, they stare The ho stroll’s prepared, I’m pimpin’ my ride out Then back to my lair The honeycomb hideout Your honey’s gon' hide out in my crib like a fugitive She wanna have a ball; I told her I got two to give She wanna see the flashin’ lights and red carpet I let her pop a double stack, I’m tryin' to start shit She’s on a bear skin, layin’ in her bare skin Her body’s super thick and it’s fair skin - I’m there then On the sofa, smokin’ jacket, Gucci loafers, and I’m blowin’ on a Swisher, while she’s blowin’ me Its over (Repeat x6)