Lyrics:
ticket and I won't be back
This Golden Rocket is gonna roll my blues away
Hear that lonesome whistle blow
That's your cue and by now you know
That
to Christ, passion like
David with the harp in front of Saul a hundred mauled
But I'm writin' songs beneath thunderstorms an' numbin' arms
Blurry vision. I see
Don’t call it a come back
Violent by design
The golden prize is you and I
To get into our minds
Exposing a divide
Politically refined, propaganda
might guard him
with my man's type proper
Better learn quick, cause my clique don't argue
You ain't my crew, who are you? Beat it
'fore we take off
might guard him
with my man's type proper
Better learn quick, cause my clique don't argue
You ain't my crew, who are you? Beat it
'fore we take off
And I know that we are golden
I can feel you getting through and underneath my skin
And I know that we are golden
And with you I don't worry 'bout
the sheepskin black
With the "Rest in Peace, Rob One" piece on the back, yeah
Four by four, eight by eight
Twenty by twenty bars, I demonstrate
Four by four,
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Don't be fooled by big blue eyes
By a smile or a golden curl
For she'll love you now
And then break every vow
'Cause she's just a honky-tonk girl
Atlas Shrugged, with the multi-verse up on my shoulders
Crack boulders with the
One Inch Punch
Or, like
Ip Man
Surrounded by, ten men
I hold
The martial
Can I fall asleep with you tonight
Cuz when i'm with you I know everything's fine
The time it just passes us on by
And I'd rather be with no one else
an avalanche
Like a steel river it flowed
Not an army but a force of nature
With the mystery and menace of fog
A cannode of artillery
Followed by an assault
already died, dog
Blood still wet, cut the check
And count them pies, dog
Freaky bitch with me
Man - she'll probably lick my eyeballs
Man she'll probably
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
All the money and fame, eight by tens
Of the whole Rat Pack inside of a big frame
Collidin' with big names that could've made your career stop
All
Notre Dame
Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme
Supreme team, America's Cream Team, redeemed
Vidal
You just don't understand
I was home just the other day
When someone told me
That you're still with the man
That you left long time ago
Oh,
Yeeees, man
But I'm not a yes-man
Who am I?
I'm that nigga with the golden mic, I hold it tight
When it's open mic it's like it's broken mic
Smokin
A woman wearing a sombrero can't eat her taco, her lips are sewn shut
A bald man plays piano in a flood, the water rises up
With 4 arms, 4 legs, 4 mouths
throw him down
to the bottom of a well, so that he will be picked up by some caravan of travelers
They said, O our father, why do you not trust us with
bound the musket beside her
With the barrel beneath her breast
Now keep good watch and they kissed her
She heard the dead man say
"oh look for me by
rushed
Snitchin' on them golden boys with the gold trust
Represented by the lawyers with gold cuffs
They order sweet potato with the gold crust
more chance to see you eye to eye
I want to go back to the time where we laid side by side
Ya I miss you in my arms and you looking at me in that way
But
dick for clothes
That's just how it goes
I just came up out the gym
I feel like Gary Oak, yeah
Arm cannons by my hip, huh?
Hope that it don't show, hey
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