This is a song about "Gold fish"

Franky lymon the lime light gets old

You gotta go all day for that gold

Sterling silver falls like brittle gold.

Women front, they get its cold

The fish was kinda smelly

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

My girl smells like perfume, yours smell like fish

And i be talking about me, i do this

This is like riding through the city

They say theres plenty fish in the sea

Spiritual, fool's gold

But for long time i had gone cold

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

I've mastered this ask of me, my raff ain't practice