[Intro]
You know I wasn't playing with these n***as, man
I had on that bucket with the baseball jersey on, buttoned
With all the gold on, them Olympic 6's early
With the ceiling socks on them fuck n***as
He talk to your girl like "Oh, that's them right there, baby"
"Oh, can you get it when they come outside of there, please?"
Duck!

[Hook]
That gold shit and them new shoes, that outfit be "whoo!" (x4)

[Verse 1]
I keep it chic'd up on these fuck n***as, A-Town drug dealer
Eight rings, three chains, it's T-Jame$, no A-Team
Leader of that Gold Gang, got a problem with it? Fuck you, n***a
I'ma let my nuts hang, these monkey bitches, they wanna swing
She said she love it, "that's a flex", I died laughing when I seen the text
And my reply was "already got a Five, but, baby girl, you can get her next"
Arrogance is my specialty, to lame n***as especially
He bite my style on the slick, but your main bitch be telling me
And your Twitter got the evidence, you wanna be me, it's evident
I ain't mad at ya per sé, I'm a real n***a, can't hurt me
Can't wait to trade in these diamond belts and cop me a new Hermes
Couple pairs of them Gucci shades, these authentic, no fugaz'
Red Polo drawers with the horses, mane, look in the mirror, I'm flawless, mane
And your main bitch, she a fan, liked all my pictures on Instagram
Bragging about me to her friends, "He the man, girl, need to get with him"
"Heard he run a store and he Caribbean and his shoe game, he got everything"
"I'm talking gold chain and gold frames", these ain't out yet so I'm gon' pay
Yeah, I'm rolling down eighty-five but I'm a real n***a, in my own lane
[Hook]

[Verse 2]
I do what I want, n***a, you do what you can
I hit the pussy, like, last month, you just not getting the chance
Yo' bitch call you by your real name, she refer to me as "dad"
I kept on my stale socks when I was hitting that ass
No flex in my campaign, my motto is three things
Soul, sex and champagne for your bitch, n***a, cause I don't drink
Joyrich vest with that leopard print, that diamond camo slim pants
No shirt on, just gold rings, "Them Olympics up," these hoes saying
We 5'9", 5-0, mane, I'm high as the fifth floor
I'm feeling like Bruh Man, my actions, girl, what it's hittin' fo'?
She told me "just beat it, mane", I'm feeling like Kimbo
I need a slice of that poo' tang, bust a move and she K.O
Then we heard that phone ring and we know who he looking fo'
She sent him to voicemail, I se-ent that bitch home
Then we heard the bell ring, it was her friend at the door
She looked at her then looked at me, what's good with that threesome?
Now it's yo' bitch and her best friend in my bed, they going in
Talking eating pussy from the back, no shame, man, that Gold Gang

[Hook]