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chriish audrey - gxld lyrics
[chorus: chriish audrey]
i got that blue berry, vanilla cherry and golden mango blunt
i’m your f-cking idol. that satan piece citrine cut
penny cruiser, drug abuser
topaz wheels and amber trucks
golden smoke up in my system
now ask me how the f-ck i glisten
all
gold
gold
gold
yeah it’s all
gold
gold
gold, swag
gold, swag
(2x)
[verse 1: chriish audrey]
from the golden gurney to the golden casket
12 golden roses on a golden mattress
blood splatter on my golden razor
gold haze on my vision from this golden sour
that’s golden filters rolled in golden papers
sipping golden vodka with a golden chaser
stretching holes in my mind like a golden taper
melting down 24 karats into a gold strainer
while i’m fl!cking the tip of syringes injecting this golden dust up into my system
and it’s clear you’re missing the point of these lessons if you think i’m professing my love for b-tches cause it’s just a metaphor for how the 4(iv) is filled up with things i’m missing and dripping into a big puddle of wishes of golden dreams schemes and means to profess my whiteness
high chief cheefer
lemon refer
tunnel vision
gold sleepers
navy gold supras high as cheer leaders
got that gold t–th, no grills
replace dental hygiene with golden pills
golden showers for these golden flowers sipping golden 40’s with the golden spill
sipping golden something silver only on my munchies
munching gold arches, gold dust and shattered dreams for supper
up her dose to two tabs and let the b-tch sleep undetected in this cadillac
you rather whack if you think i’m not shining black and gold
i got that blue berry, vanilla cherry and golden mango blunt
i’m your f-cking idol. that satan piece citrine cut
penny cruiser, drug abuser
topaz wheels and amber trucks
golden smoke up in my system
now ask me how the f-ck i glisten
all
gold
gold
gold
yeah it’s all
gold
gold
gold, swag
gold, swag
(2x)
[verse 2: crybaby]
i sport that gotti gold like a persian god
and honestly i couldn’t think of a more perfect cause
to splurge a wad
a real epicurean b-st-rd
rob jesus, leave the frankincense and myrrh in the pasture. (hah)
gold ain’t old it’s old school and i’m the head master
no blood diamonds but a cut sharp enough to shed plasma
i’m about my crystal like a f-cking meth lab son
and gold is on the rise again so make way platinum
bouillon from atlanta and breeze jet crashing
when gold was king currency long before the cash was
a nappy white boy that remain fresh to death
cry-baby swaggnificent you b-tches ought to check my
shades. 18 karat frames
fingers. 18 karat rings
chains. 18 karat sway, you can’t ignore my garish swag
even got an 18 karat blade fitted on that black stiletto
call me wiz khalifa b-tch, i’m all about that black and yellow
i got that blue berry, vanilla cherry and golden mango blunt
i’m your f-cking idol. that satan piece citrine cut
penny cruiser, drug abuser
topaz wheels and amber trucks
golden smoke up in my system
now ask me how the f-ck i glisten
all
gold
gold
gold
yeah it’s all
gold
gold
gold, swag
gold, swag
(2x)
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