This is a song about "Gold ceilings"

Thug for life nigga

My all gold rolly or the

Philosopher's stone made into the cylinder turning the rockets to gold,

I see the addict, the alcoholic with golden flask out cold,

Im on. everything i spit is glittered, dipped in gold

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

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

I miss the sixpack i had, now i turn iron into gold

To see me and my chicks in dkny kicks

Damn straight it can't hold, i bust through ceilings

Bitch i'm delivering gold,

And i drop top off in a hot cold

I got a watch wit all gold,

Franky lymon the lime light gets old

Killing gangsters, way i'm raising ceilings is dangerous,

Now momma told me be careful who you love