Gold

[Chorus: James Fauntleroy]

So we made it to this same end of the road

And we picked up lots of chicks and pots of gold

How I made it out with my

Soul, Ohh, ohh! Ohh, ohh!

[Verse 1]

Ashtrays and cigarretes, last days, indigenous people

These are adventures of young black millionaires

I am the voice of the meek and underprivileged

The smell of success, I want y'all to get a whiff of this

On the move like black slaves through the wilderness

I write it, and still get invited to white Christmases

When I was born, three wise men came to visit us

One a hustler, one a king, one a prisoner

They cracked the bottle then started giving gifts

You from Chicago, we want you to deliver this

Show the walking dead who the true and living is

Separate the fake from who the real reals is

Hot tub time machine, back to the Sybaris

Hats from liquor stores to avoid syphilis

Frivolous spending, drunk nights with storybook endings

I guess it's my addiction to women