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specifics - thats just gold lyrics

my couch bas-m-nt
layin in the cut about eight
it’s rainin outside, my mouth dry like i was
just blazin
brain rush when the celly ring, or two way, or
just a phone
f-ck it though it ain’t essentially linked to me
bustin flows
my bro, cousins, a couple biddies a clutch a
dozen cols suds
and smoke too so if it’s booze, then i
must’ve known
the crew is cruisin cross the second narrows
bridge
and got tickets to a show, you set to go?
they heard crickets
gut laced with hunger pains, maybe another
day
he chuckled and sayin son if you must we
could hit up subway
so it was on, rolled equipped with old timbs
and flip my bridges long
so i could get rich like any pimp to broads
drippin fog and i ducked in the whip in
shotgun while guzzlin a sip
my coffee mug is topped to the brim
nod to kittens in the back
my man fat p-ssed his service in europe
he hit the gas the b-tches p-ssin’ me
bourbon
as i capped it i was jokin with them folks
from the fairer s-x
so joe was on the phone, the girls a go are
we there uh yet?
i’m laughin, no, let abten know the plan for
the jam is to meet in the street
and have a smoke before we hit the vip
he’s like peace, cl!ck, and reach for the weed
quick
and chickens in the back ain’t doin nouthing
but gigglin
sh-t a man in my position more concerned
with that jigglin
mental note, player, f-ck the front, later sit
with them
i’m seein hearts like it’s heaven and the
lemon hart helps
young men and women get a good start as
the whip darts
though the dark elements and pett-t take
us where we gotta get
cuz the real party starts at eleven kid

the 80 of gin
my name on the list
the lanes that we switch
that’s just gold

the ladies are twist
just babes in whips
canadian prince
that’s just gold

rollin down the window kid, skippin on the
disc, with the chicks poking him
yo we got any disco?
it’s joe with the conference call phone
blowin up with yall folks
that’s already at the club, but we got it all
stole a glance up in the mirror at my hat and
stuff
buzzin starin at them ladies in the cut and
wearin nothing much
wink she flashin me ivories
teeh sink on bluntwrap, p-ss that reef beside me
she tongue that
jelous of ya lime green beverage
torrential hail the high beams as we french
inhale
and cut back as the engine wailin through
the guts of hastings
reach down my legs it’s van halen
yo she got it, wanna get our shuck and jive
goin
if we gettin drunk i’m lookin forward to the
ride home
they said the club is yes bumpin, son, all i
see is wet road refection
cold leather on my neck
it’s the west coast
gray depths of the old growth oak
through at such place they become death
tones
go
runnin red, if you see the fuzz duck your
head miss, the whip will seat enough
if we had one less
and get your fist up speedy when you spot a
cyclops or a beetle on the street or off a
sidewalk
it’s worth a six pack, p-ss the sh-t back, i’m
finna get blasted we missed the first act
joey’s chillin, yo the hoes be grillin us
suppose me, i don’t give a sh-t, he’s
indifferent
soon as i blink, now she wink, should be a
good week
the sweetest thing of any evening is the pre
drink

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