Hand to hand in the cold
I got a watch wit all gold,
Spiritual, fool's gold
Plenty smoke, plenty rolled
Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks
Rocking black and gold stocking caps
I never gave a fuck and that's what they love
I aim like i hold the gold compass, a gold atlas.
You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold
I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed
All this paper i fold
But like the diamonds and gold
Only seen family a few like gold
Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed
Gold letterman last kings killing shit
He could own that, shawty, i'mma lease that
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