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

I was in France, in to see Hennessy blending

Writing my own scripts like I'm Tennessee Williams

Now it's new beginnings like a born again Christian

On the mic, victorious, story is redemption

[Bridge: James Fauntleroy]

I'm sitting at the top, I'm not alone

I'm standing here with my

Soul, Ohh!

[Verse 2: Common]

Feed our souls with two fish and five loaves

Teach a man to cook it for survival

My dad said it rained on my arrival

Now a storm of the brain make these guys drive slow

Like I was 5-0, but my creed's Apollo

On the rock and roll with the coldest live show

For those before I came, I made the song cry for 'em

Lyrical gymnast, you set the bar low

This is the Kilimanjaro, like Twitter you can follow

It may be hard to read like hieroglyphics

Written on the walls of Cairo, check my youth revival

Truth inside flow, I stand like Em did with Dido

Crash parties, any live yo

Is libel to get banged like things that rival tribal slang

From the pride we'll reign, kill the game and watch it die slow

Ali MC, I fight for more than the title

Your idol

[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!

[Outro: James Fauntleroy]

How I made it out with my

Soul, Ohh, ohh! Ohh, ohh!

[Produced by No I.D]