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e-40 - yellow gold كلمات الأغنية

[intro: e-40]
sick wid it!

[chorus]
chain on top a chain on top a chain
yellow gold (yellow gold)
yellow gold (yellow gold)
yellow gold
diamonds dancing all on my ring
yellow gold (yellow gold)
yellow gold (yellow gold)
yellow gold
(yeah, mayne, looking like king tut and them, mayne)

[verse 1: e-40]
in the streets like a oil stain (soil)
yellow brick road, that’s what i call my chain (dorothy)
still in the hood like a motor (vroom!)
had to walk before i crawled, f-ck a stroller (fully)
built for battle, born soldier (warrior)
staple a sucka like a poster (du-du!)
i started off a dollar-naire (hope)
doodoo stains in my underwear (broke)
now i’m ballin’ like a rapper (40)
pulling up with the slapper (stee bead)
waking up the block (blappin’)
speakers ’bout to pop (clappin’)
giuseppes on my feet, trues on my keys (keys)
colored diamonds on my chains, easter (easter)
chanel, celine, prada
karl lagerfeld, versace, escada (40)

[verse 2: droop-e]
keep it all the way a milli
really, i just want a billi (a billion)
chain same color as aborigini hair
shining like an african heir
it’s in my roots, my genealogy
smoke in the air, getting high as apaches
or a cherokee, i’m with a centerfold
she need vitamin d, i give her vegetables
putting the pedal to the floor, still hustling
living’s h-lla slow, still buffering
harley quinn cbd strings, listening to og game
now i got chain on top of chain
you lame on top of lame
don’t run up ’cause if you f-cking with droop-e
sick wid it going broke putting change on n-ggas’ brains behind me

[verse 3: work dirty]
growing up i was a skinny -ss broke n-gga
now i’m on my fifth flight out n-gga
guess my pockets went and grew with my appet-te
touch my change, i’ma touch your life
bro, these n-ggas fading out like a outro
and they ain’t got no power like some outdoor
’bout to show these weak n-ggas what it hittin’ for
tryna gamble with a boss, you would go broke
shawty give good p-ssy with some good head
but she be playing with n-ggas, co-ed
gold jesus piece like the pope
lord, forgive me, ’cause i’m ’bout it, selling dope
i ain’t perfect, he working on me
but lil mama keep twerking on me
all this jewelry make a n-gga feel conceited
i’m sick wid it, there’s no treating it

[outro]
he’s been hot for decades

- e 40

كلمات أغنية عشوائية

كلمات الأغاني الشهيرة