Doing time in the pen and your gram's old
Bitch i'm delivering gold,
The rhythm gets into your head.
Dutty wine for access, show me your neck
How you feel in your head
You already know you're dead
That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette
Im a head hunter with targets on every head
Diamond laced gold plated platinum plaques/
Yeah, red bottoms, she ain't trying to dance
Gold chains, watches and more,
Or something that you paid for
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
Musical shots at your head,
Cutting me this worthless check
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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