album cover
Gold
8,418
Hip-Hop/Rap
Gold was released on January 1, 1995 by Geffen as a part of the album Liquid Swords
album cover
Release DateJanuary 1, 1995
LabelGeffen
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM92

Music Video

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
RZA
RZA
Programming
GZA
GZA
Vocals
Method Man
Method Man
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Songwriter
Gary Grice
Gary Grice
Songwriter
GZA/Genius
GZA/Genius
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RZA
RZA
Producer
GZA
GZA
Producer
Tom Coyne
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

[Intro]
Ayo, shorty, yo, that's my word
Oh, y'all smelling y'all piss now? Y'all think y'all gold?
Yo, anybody get caught flinging over here
I'm returning 'em, that's my word, they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, that's mine
Y'all need to step the fuck off
Y'all **** ain't crazy for real
[Chorus]
Yo, the fiends ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
[Verse 1]
I'm deep down in the backstreets in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a **** and his boys, for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the dope sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross sales
To catch more mils than ho bitches got birth control pills
I'm in the park, setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum **** sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a **** name to John Doe
And while he set up camp, he got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fucking fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should have took out
[Chorus]
No neighborhood is rough enough
There is no clip that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you, yo
Fiends ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
[Verse 2]
It's mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they repaint the scene
Like the last episode on Gates and Evergreen
**** plant bombs 'til the smoke from the blast becomes thick
And floats through, all they knew, he's gun-sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands that tap work
His idols would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in hills
They moved keys and had his fiends making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers
And live large and bigger than my ****
Who promised his moms a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organizes crime and drug wars
[Chorus]
Fiends ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up, I reload
Product must be sold to you
No neighborhood is rough enough
There is no clips that's full enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
There's no cuffs that's tight enough
There is no **** that fuck with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
Written by: GZA/Genius, Robert Diggs
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