This is a song about "Western africa trade and gold"

Then the gun shot, but i wasn't hit

Soul maybe find gold and never hit shit.

And the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold,

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

Then push the milk on a slow bend

My rings, gold, diamond, and crystal glared

No need to decode, but yeah sometimes the truth blows and you trade blows

Best stay away when the door closed, i show up with four hoes

Pluck ya ace, take ya girl, fuck her face

And i got them gold bottles, first place

War and slaughter, blood is gold, from dust to ashes/

I never gave a fuck and that's what they love

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

Turn money into diamonds and gold

Hand to hand in the cold

But like the diamonds and gold