This is a song about "Beer and the pole out to camp fishing feeling like gold"

And i ride for any nigga who believe in the shit

Everybody wants the gold and a place to spend it,

Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold

Im like a devil rebel to the cocky jockey, you see me grindin mining all the gold

Ties up her up to a pole and puts his knives up on the carpet,

While you mothafuckas waiting, i be off the slave ship

To you, ill take you out fishing an leave the sharks with something to chew, no rescue,

But in real life they eyes is on your moneysee the enemies will say they true

And drinking cheap beer with no buzz, out of old cups

And meetin' mr. folarin could get you cardiac problems

Feeling like it’s armageddon and imabout to get a ride quick

With a staggerin' pack of cocaine in the sack of my dick

I'm craving the feeling to jump and fly

Fresh to death, when i step, you can hear momma's cry