This is a song about "Wyatt gold the faker"

I cut class, said i was a faker

And i just want to hold her

You killed the nigga, i stole a bible, is that a sin

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

I got rhymes for days nigga i'm cold

Its the truth in the booth, i spit gold

And now i only listen to this hip-hop shit

My gold and bitches? the way i hold the biscuit?

Been a star since i was back in one time

Gold shinin check the time, it's my shine,

I miss the sixpack i had, now i turn iron into gold

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

Let it be told, the story how you chilled in mansions with gold

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

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

But he keeps it real for the gold and through the chains,