[Verse 1: Boldy James]
Bass grinding to them pops
Eighty five for the tops
Speeding out to the trace
Twenty five for the flake
Thirty five for a block
Eighteen for the head
Ninety five for the quad
Fifty five for an eight
Twenty eight for the splint
Twelve hundred for a zint
Wait to work while it's wet and let it dry from the plate
Cuz borrowed a quarter from me, can't shove a loyal to me
Scraping up that lawyer money, he just caught another case
Turned down to twelve straights
Pack it up in oil tents
Makin' forty off the breeky, but he triple out of state
Different rentals switchin' plates
With the kibbles and them bits
Saw my n***as shootin' trisp
Playing with them 1008
Missed call from the plug
Brody calling from the clink
Water running in the sink
Blake Griffin off the brink
Alley-oop aboard the rim
Work jumping out the gym
Dog running out the stem
But they love that OilBass

[Verse 2: Sir Michael Rocks]
I was stayin' in Kailua
You was stayin' in the sewer
Hundred grand on computers
Thousand dollar graphic card
When you still cracking cards
Lemme put em' in their place
Like i'm working real estate
Put these n***as in the cape
Always tryna save a thot
You forgot about the guap
3D printin' me an ounce
Got it from a Google doc
Reinvest it in the wrap
BPS in red and black
Sounds poppin' where i'm at
Ain't no mercy for a rat
I bet she poppin' now
APC drop, I'm down
Bitch was flexing, say she rich from pension
Yeah she drop em' down
Pick em' up and hop into the whip when n***as not around
Type to fuck a n***a in your crib when you outta town, (ooh)
Need a body bra
Hold a shot of [?]
Type to tell twelve that I'm gone when I got a high
Chop it up and put it on a plate like it's À la carte
But she knew it was that OilBass, cause it wouldn't drive
[Verse 3: Chuck Inglish]
Ay yo
I'm at the dry-cleaners
Fat strings in my Adidas
Boombox and Hip-Hopin' out the motherfuckin' Beemer
Moochi pulled up in the side, dog, I had to rethink it
I gotta get another job and count it up in the machine
Cracking numbers
Padded 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
Costs a brick to break it open
And I told your goofy ass
When you met her, she was gone
Bet it back, six five let it crack, (ay)
Don't you touch shit, I'll count it where it's at
The stone cold stunner come and drop you on your neck
Ted DiBiase, that's a million dollar plan
Damn, and, you dropped a 100k just to get that shit snatched when you got to L.A.,
Them n***as made you buy it back, why you lying in your raps?
If you ain't bought that bag, then you pinching out the sack, n***a