Stay Gold

[Ηοοκ: Lauryn Hill]

Zee, (one time) got down with Lauryn, loooong agooooo (yeah muthafuckas)

Gold status is where, we will beeeee (Yeah, yeah)

Τhat's where you'll find me, sippin' Martini, (yeah yeah) my pockets swole

Stay gold

[Verse 1: Young Zee]

I'll go gold if I just stay true to Newark

Get high and dust clicks like embalmin' fluid

My shit's loud when I drop my sound

All the angels in the clouds like "Turn that shit down!"

[Verse 2: Lauryn Hill]

These dimensions and extensions will secure my future pension

When I mention corporate lynchings like the cowboys did to indians

The intentions, of the Devil, is to cause me hypertension

So stay gold like Stevie Wonder, don't blunder like O.J. Simpson

[Verse 3: Young Zee]

Yeah, Zee need to battle with the older guys

'Cause all you lil' niggas get pulverized

Yeah, I get ill on funky beats like Jalil

Yo posse gon wind up in Beth Israel

Bring yo' fleet

You'll get stabbed and beat

And stomped out in the street with my football cleats

Yeah, I make a snake talk, bitch say who is it

When I climb up her walls just like, Number 4 Lizard

What is this trash I hear?

Is it "Static", like Jeru, and Premier?

Your MC style is way too old

I unfold pure funk long as I stay gold

[Hook]

[Verse 4: Young Zee]

I be doing 95 in horizons

Flyin', lightin' up thai while I'm drivin'

Your company like: "Who the fuck is Zee?"

'Cause I be So So Def like Jermaine Dupri

[Verse 5: Yah Yah]

It's pure No Brain funk, so get your cam, start recording

And watch How We Do This like Montell Jordan (Watch how we dooo thiisssss)

I use freestyles when I be high on sabbaticals

On old school rap, I keep trapped in time capsules

Outz motherfuckers, servin' niggas like butlers

Rollin' dutches, goin' stickin' in the Cutlass

My shit rocks word to Scott La Rock

I smoke opts and drink scotch and send my style through a paradox

I'm Outz, who ya?

NBC, Outsidaz, this rap's raw, plus there's Moore than Mary Tyler

[Verse 6: Young Zee]

And all the sell out, fake crews that tote pistols

I can diss you and I'm only buggin' like whistle

You sold your soul for a tootsie roll

Now you swole 'cause your LP didn't even go gold

I don't let it get next to me

I just hang out with my friends like Extra P

(Yeah Roots, DU, and Ali ...)

[Chorus]