This is a song about "Wyatt gold the faker"

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

Just ya picture though, you still taped in a lake

Philosopher's stone made into the cylinder turning the rockets to gold,

Cause when you hot its like your burnin up everyone elses cold

Said when i do dirt wit her

Let me be clear homeys a faker

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

I work hard for everything i get

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

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

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

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

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

Ay, undo your bra with one handif anything is gonna care it on and cum can

When you rapping how i'm rapping, they fellatio free

Yall niggas phony, faker than the "meat" in bologna