All Gold Everything lyrics
by Dorrough Music
You know me, what you got? I got a brand new 213
I got a b*tch that I pull out of Macy's
She look just like Angelina jolie
I’m running rounds like I’m Michael Crab tree, 49’ers
I’m in California smoking California, marijuana
I be in Arizona sipping Arizonas
I slept with my chains and woke up with pneumonia
(Too many diamonds)
I done came up, 30 minutes first round
I’m in that pus*y deep 10 yards first down
Lil mama got the ass she a pretty round brown
Big like brown, got her going down town
I f*cked that b*tch then I hit denny’s
f*ck screams man I’m thinking loud pad minnies
Coca-Cola mixing with the remi and the heny
Watching south park, who killed Kenny? Who
Who killed swag, my n*gga Ace Boogie
Got a bad b*tch and all she do is make cookies
I make her get the weed she bring it back to me
PTC and g black hoodie
Shout out young nation, there’s only one nation
Drop a mixtape and take a foreign vacation
All across the world repping one location
I kick it with the n*gga who invented playstation
I kick it with the n*gga who invented sony
Real mob boss montana, tony
I don’t rent it, if I drive it, I own it
I see it, want it, buy it, flaont it
I done done a lot I got a lot to tell
If you want the game I got a lot to sell
If I go to jail, murk got the bail
We got a hit single, called what the hell
I do shows, (with who) with my n*ggas
These hoes choosing them haters mad
Cause they chose (who they chose), my n*ggas
( I f*ck a b*tch and then hit the yo and get blown (with who)
With my n*ggas, and best believe we toe still triggers
Whole salty, dill picker, real n*gga, no hill figure
I got a foolie ass 2 parties, faime and young
I’m a king im rockin' luis and rockin' ed hard
All you n*ggas go broke, I swear to god you a joke
You are a rapper, but you better off selling coke
I’m a young pimp in the flesh
, skrit, noopid iyess
Make ya b*tch get undressed
…b*tch n*ggas, b*tch n*ggas better come correct
Catch a blessing now I’m finna jet
With a bad b*tch say she wanna have sex, right now
I’m so triple d, I never miss latex
Yeah, my money long like a motherf*cking me freeway
Famie and young I’m killing n*ggas, y’all ain’t getting on my lee way
I’m smoking kush I’m popping zans but I’m not kinfolk to smokey
My kush loud, my b*tch loud, my house sound like coyotes
It’s finey young, I’m geeked up, you know the hoes love my rollie
And my money on a whole another level
Famie and Yung pedal to the metal, get stupid
And my chain got red diamonds
I used to play hockey for the red devils
My diamonds look like rose petals
Put you in the dirt no shovel
And I got so much guns, I should have a junkyard for metals
Been smoking on coroner’s that's ketal
I get more checks...
I f*ck bad b*tches you settle
And all my n*ggas f*cking rebels
They gonn hate off top, who the hell called the cops
Damn, gold chain, gold watch, it’s like I robbed the jewelry shop
I got gold on my draws, too many gold chains, f*ck it, I’ma wear em all
I just hop and park the…go lock then my draws f*ck the denim flaws
Nine on my hip, I’m young louw wall, in played house with a lot of barbie dolls
Hope that my girl don’t call, getting head in the restroom stall
Man, your chain look tan, damn, did you found your sh*t in the sand
All my dumbers come from japan, 3d lamps, we blowing afgan
This rosary still shining, well …
Money talking here but I’m saying
I got guns from pakistan
And my b*tch is korean, my trucks battle of the bands
She gives me head she got the masterplan
PTC, we wu tang clan, yeah
My kush is the best trench, and I’m holding the choppa in my hand
Got your main b*tch in the trance, and I’m balling while you in the stands
Order 30 boxes swishers, put the lean in the pitcher
Time to take your little sister, I’am make your b*tch hit for twister
I’m sipping with the pefect mixture
Get that … I’ve been saying once my time flicker
Turnt your b*tch to a gold digger
90 swag with the gold all rose, rims
Everybody knows that I’m rocking, them
And money grow on trees, I keep them limbs
Shoot you for a clip, I’ma put you in a film
Is you scary I think I’m on the elm, street
I’m Freddie Kruger …got beef, down
Money talk let mine speak
Yo I got em… my ATL b*tch is a Georgia peach
I eat that pus*y up time for a feast
Eat every beat, bonnet petite
Running this game, where the f*ck my cleats, nation