This is a song about "Wyatt gold the faker"

Its the truth in the booth, i spit gold

I got rhymes for days nigga i'm cold

But i did have miss medusa, she loud and she leave me stoned

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

Fuck what they selling, it's reality living in the mirror

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

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

Wish you was around now to see what i've become see

Been a star since i was back in one time

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

But like the diamonds and gold

This shit would leave rosetta stoned

I'm the king of england with my ships of gold,

And i drop top off in a hot cold

Now you know you shoulda ducked nigga

My all gold rolly or the