This is a song about "Gold"

I got a watch wit all gold,

This shit would leave rosetta stoned

Franky lymon the lime light gets old

Bitch i'm delivering gold,

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold

Anything that i spit comes out in gold!

And copy what's hot until that goes cold

Spiritual, fool's gold

Where i from, it get cold

Gold letterman last kings killing shit

Now you got me hopped up on that

Diamond laced gold plated platinum plaques/

It's odd that they say that the crack kill blacks

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

Welcome back to class, bitch, grab on to your glasses