This is a song about "Wyatt gold the faker"

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

Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her

Dat pakistani gold be what they growin, the dea still not knowin'

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

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

Don't follow the trail of gold or you will be controlled

Turn it upside down and open your legs if you're real cold

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

You made me wanna

My all gold rolly or the

Majori'm at the apex, your at the nadir ain't nothing faker, rather be alone than

Like twenty-five to life never crossed they mindtell me young nigga never learned a thang

Uhh, can it be fatethat makes a sick muthafucka break

The gold on the fame sucks, i feel i’m growing estranged,

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