Yeah look. Straight out the holy land to holdin' grams. Tra-tra-trappin' out stolen vans with goals and plans. Lonely man remember bein' my only fan. I'm down and up the Midas touch the golden hand. Blood in the soil is over oil. Cold-hearted my blood boils. The spoils of war are used to take the drugs out the foil. Man these arms can't reach you AR's won't recoil. Goddamn I might marry a heiress and move to Paris. Fuck the carriage baby let's go disappear and just perish. Thirty karats in the gold. I wear it to cherish the kings from which we inherit. My chariot is McLaren. It's all numeric. Talkin' numbers you incoherent. Don't be embarrassed I blame your parents for even caring. Or not aborting ah fuck it it's not important. My vital organs can't even tell if it's night or morning. Final warning final warning final warning. Every morning you'll awake and await mourning. We earn it then we burn it to ash. I call it urn money. My dog caught 40 before he turned 20. Money is earned the rest is inherited. Hashish come from Marrakech all my kush is American. Man I feel like a therapist pistol on me like Maravich. I careless I'm so perilous with all of this arrogance goddamn. Money hoes that's something that you can't chase. I ain't shit but let you eat from the same plate. If you ungrateful then you ain't great. Me and Khaled come from the same place. Huh holy land holy land. Back when I was holdin' grams just to haul a Benz. Yeah holy land holy land. My father never was a holy man