Motion Lyrics – French Montana, Max B

Read the full Motion lyrics by French Montana and Max B from the album Wave Gods 2: Cosmos Brothers along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy French Montana’s music, you can also explore Who Do You Love and Made it Out, two other songs by French Montana.

[Intro: Max B]
Yeah
Look
So street again
Take two of the finest n!ggas
From other sides of the planet
We link ’em up
It’s Cosmos, baby, yeah

[Chorus: Max B]
N!ggas tryna stop the motion
Cosmos Bro, this s*it was top-notch promotion

S*it that get me high, seat back when I’m coasting
S*it that get me tired, kick it back when I’m roasting
Champagne Clé, popping bottle and I toast ’em
Little like caboose, run train, no commotion
These n!ggas wanna choose, big chain, I be choking
N!gga want a deuce, pop bottles and I smoke s*it, oh

[Verse 1: Max B]
Boss Don hit different
Mailman, I deliver the package and gift it
B!tch s*it fat, I slap her ass when she’s shifting
Big kickbacks, cashing out, but I spent it
Crashing out, going back, I was tempted
Plenty expenses, it hit me extensive
I’m tryna eat, drop fifty on my dentures
I ain’t miss a beat, I’m Kunta Kinte in the trenches
Got a fine b!tch, petite, tight like my riches
Gucci sweatsuits at the sneaker conventions
Our time is now, there’s no one else to mention
V12 Benz, rear four-wheel suspension, oh

[Chorus: Max B & French Montana]
N!ggas tryna stop the motion
Cosmos Bro, this s*it was top-notch promotion
S*it that get me high, seat back when I’m coasting (N!gga, what up?)

S*it that get me tired, kick it back when I’m roasting
Champagne Clé, popping bottle and I toast ’em (Pop)
Little like caboose, run train, no commotion
These n!ggas wanna choose, big chain, I be choking
N!gga want a deuce, pop bottles and I smoke s*it, oh (Montana)

[Verse 2: French Montana]
I don’t pop bottle, I smoke s*it
Up about a hundred million dollars and I don’t post s*it, I post it (Woo)
Crib in each coast, I’m coasting
Every left-wing, right-wing b!tches get losted, exhausting (Ah)
Still hustle more than I’m tosting
Went to jail and my dogs still getting brown from Boston, flossing (Ah)
Still never ask what it costing
Hot chrome, if you ain’t getting crossed out, then you getting crossed in (Baow, baow, baow)
The type of moves, bankrolls, no type of rules (Woo)
Three strikes, two b!tches and one life to lose
Do it with my eyes closed, n!gga, we the Cosmos Brothers
Dropping hints on you n!ggas, twenty-four summers (Ha)

[Chorus: Max B]
N!ggas tryna stop the motion
Cosmos Bro, this s*it was top-notch promotion
S*it that get me high, seat back when I’m coasting
S*it that get me tired, kick it back when I’m roasting
Champagne Clé, popping bottle and I toast ’em
Little like caboose, run train, no commotion
These n!ggas wanna choose, big chain, I be choking
N!gga want a deuce, pop bottles and I smoke s*it, oh