This is a song about "Silver and gold chains"

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

Counting all my chains and to show that i'm calling south

Okra and chitlins at my restaurants, i own all the chains,

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

Going for the gold, not the copper or the silver/

Cause your shine is somethin' like a mirror

So i'mma talk about a little bit of that

His urn was silver with his name gold plated,

Nudies and some j six, where i’m from it’s cold

I’m steady searching for a stack of the green and gold,

Gold chains, watches and more,

And you ain't gotta go to war

I mean of course just the same old

Sterling silver falls like brittle gold.

A straight thug motherfucker who ain't scared to bust

You snap my chains and free my mind from its enslavement