More Bass, More Treble (feat. Cousin Fik & Turf Talk)

Bass

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

More bass more treble more (ba-ba-ba-ba-bass)

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

This shit jamming, come through slamming

Look up in my head and you'll prolly see a cannon

Last man standing if niggas get the blastin'

California bear and you looking like salmon

Cooler than the Phantom with us there's no fam-ous

Truly on the wasted with us they're no shaming

Pump Jackie Chan and trunk Van Dam and

Hating on the family you slumped in the fam

And my hoes pop on handstands, weed it like the sandman

Put'cha ass to sleep rollin sweets by the grand fam

My nigga so high he prolly never ever land

And if he did he prolly end up somewhere in Japan

With lean in my socky I'm Rockley and teriyaki

She wanna sucky sucky got her hands in my jocky (my draws)

Like my nigga Ed, I'm a go Hardy

You know what I needs when I turns out the party

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

Uhh, through the soil just got my whip fixed

Trunk sounding like Chewbacca try'na get up out that bitch

Stash rocks for a fit, with the ness-naked chick best believe

I'm talking on my Sidekick she rollin' up her weave

I don't live in this world no mo, I live in the sky

You wanna know why, cause I be high as flying soarer fuel

And I don't hang around niggas that ain't cool

I'm talking about to the point where you don't shallow don't wanna hang around you

Uhh, nice guys finish last and stay broke

Bad guys finish first and push dope

I'm a money motivator not a playa hata

Brought my Chevy from a fiend not the auto trainer

Around and bumped into a fella once po but now he got it made

Millionaire now but repeated the seventh grade

Uhh, you can tell by the way that this boss walking

I'm a Bay boy; I like to hear myself talking

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

Haters on my line, show a nigga no love

Bang on my hip, poking out my soul clug

I like side belly, it's like I cold with it

I'm number 24 when it come to Sick Wid It

On my screen and eagle pipes hella loud

Got'cha bitch ass sitting on crocodile

Got my third eye, looking for the cop core

More bass, more bass, I'm a rockstar

Let the wolfs out, mini move mean

Knock, knock, bullets flying through your front screen

I'm still in it, any nigga could get it

Yet anybody is subjected to get the fuckin' bidness

Back to the doggings, throw em on the cobnut

Mo volume that a make the trunk jump

I rock gold teeth, but not Sutherlin

I got pink slips, no stuttering

More bass more treble more volume tune the light

Ba-ba-ba-ba-bass