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

But for long time i had gone cold

Body and soul i'm told keep that shit gold

Everybody wants the gold and a place to spend it,

Wicked ambition go give this shit a coroner visit

Yessir... momma looking puerto rican and she got the best hair

And if money wasnt there love could always be that one fair trade to share

I saved her number just in case but now it’s case closed

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

Turn money into diamonds and gold

This shit would leave rosetta stoned

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

Bottom row of the bronze and gold social ladder, bother? don't

Franky lymon the lime light gets old

To have this fake fans and diamonds with gold

Rocking black and gold stocking caps

Girl, you got me in a trance