This is a song about "9 carrot gold"

Glad trash bags, throw them in the black bags

Diamond laced gold plated platinum plaques/

She like, girl you wrong running away from home

I'll be bugs with no carrot a dog without a bone.

Its the truth in the booth, i spit gold

And copy what's hot until that goes cold

Double-m g up, we up, y'all just relax

Crap rappers wear gold chains and hold stacks

I mean of course just the same old

Spiritual, fool's gold

Enjoy your carrot as you stuck it up your ass, fuckin faggot

Trying to get you hot and wet you know jacuzzi that shit

Gold letterman last kings killing shit

Then the gun shot, but i wasn't hit

I aim like i hold the gold compass, a gold atlas.

That scary love, never get married love