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lirik lagu etude in gold – body bag ben

etude in gold lyrics
[intro]
uh*huh
uh*huh, motherf*ckers, uh*huh
that’s produced and written by (body bag)
805 sh*t, bustin’, yo

[verse 1]
from go, this sh*t glitters gold (ooh)
pen stroke like a gold mine, y’all motherf*ckers is peddlin’ fools gold
shooter like goldeneye, i keep the tool in the robe
that’s another golden brick for the road, dripped in purple and gold
he got his gold rush, chopper paint his face like he gold dust (brr)
turn these words into gold, he got the midas touch
golden gloves dot his eye danny jacobs (blatt)
ain’t no low hangin’ fruits broke down a chicken
cook the shake up, huh (boom)
body bag sh*t on your lawn like like ason (haha)
servin’ these gold tops, you know it’s a1, left his face numb
they one milk crate challenge away
from me walkin’ around like michael douglas and fallin’ down
rippin’ the drums, spray the place up, uh
they tossin’ shots from the cheap seats
the sun rock steady like them breakers on beach street
slice ’em cheek to cheek
open they chakras ’til the tips carve ’em up like baraka
toss the penne with the alla vodka, huh
gold tanks like p, y’all sound like silkk the shocker
milk tucked in the jogger, y’all dumbies know the mantra
squeezin’ ’til it’s empty, you ain’t an innocent bystander if you posin’ next to the enemy
pennin’ my notions in the melody
on my jayo like he felony, uh
gave it to him, but he ain’t know what to do with it (nah)
these so*called cooks is f*ckin’ up the recipe
i know the jooks big wood match the mood and the energy (and the energy)
ha, you gettin’ stomped like there’s ten of me
[chorus]
with*with that bullsh*t, step to the rear, son
leave shows and dead mics, beat kids with lead pipes
from a wild town, we don’t bust down clowns
so, bow, bow, bow down

[verse 2]
look, brick by brick, he laid it perfectly
out of courtesy, paid the service fee, now the same p*ssies jerkin’ me (p*ssy)
purposely move with ill intent
y’all ill*advised and out your element, the drum rip (ah)
this sh*t hangin’ like an ornament dipped through the orients
aura drippin’ like moroccan oil
the spoils of war that made his stomach coil
don’t play it cool, that make my blood boil (nah)
huh, blood in, blood out, he plant his roots deep inside the soil
blood oranges on the charcuterie
word, smoked meats, dead all beefs, there’s somethin’ new to see
the work creamy like tahini, chop the beige pieces like sashimi
[?][2:17] head blue in the face just like the genie
man, i’m through waitin’
melt the thin ice that y’all skatin’
made this sh*t an occupation, lord
swear to god they in it to win it, ain’t no k*mbayas
f*ck ’em all, k!ll ’em all, lord, spin the [?][2:30]
huh, did ’em one better, turnt my back on ’em
look, don’t mistake a king for a beggar
i begged to differ when the ink hit the ledger, held ’em accountable
ha, word, no man an island, though
he just an island boy, but where the rest at?
talkin’ ’bout you keep your vest on
cl!ck*clack, then where your vest at?
turn his neck to a v when the lead clap
the impact made his head snap back, left his sh*t cracked
[chorus]
with*with that bullsh*t, step to the rear, son
leave shows and dead mics, beat kids with lead pipes
from a wild town, we don’t bust down clowns
so, bow, bow, bow down

[outro]
body bag

- body bag ben

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