(verse 1) – b.ware

Hootie hoo was the phrase, back in Southwest Atlanta, aye!
bumpin’ that southerplay, thumpin’ monkey niggas for they J’s
hustlin’ tusslin’, brain muscle sho’ wasn’t in
rather, who could bust a rim, cussin’, we wasn’t pushin’ pens
Higher Learning ‘bout racist Remis, Forest Gump loved Jenny
uncles drunk off Henny, Halloween, dump them Good & Plentys
d-boys flashed semis, flask-barrel, life wasn’t no gimme
we ain’t know shit about no college, or no fuckin’ Kappa shimmy
so what you want from me? These boys ain’t no dummies
but it’s hard when you hungry, to get used to empty tummy
in school writin’ book summaries, it’s cooler to chase them honeys
yet foolish, you choose… niggas will do murder for that money
that Ghetty-Ghetty Green readily illegal means
when options often obsolete, we lash out, you snuff our dreams
it’s ya boy, b.ware, as these flows materialize
I’ma let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine

(Hook 2x) – Project Pat

all playas hustlin’, lemme see ya gold shine
all my playas comin’ up, lemme see ya gold shine
gold rings, gold chains, gold teeth on the grind
lemme see ya gold shine, lemme see ya gold shine

(verse 2) – b.ware

Willin’ champagne to my real friends… waiter
and real pain to my sham friends… straight up
pray Cobain ain’t my future, Don’t Wanna Be A Fool, Luther
and learn from them cougars, so the young girls can’t school bruh
labor, The Free is championing, brandish my pen
and riddle phlegm about my life of candid sin, raised of Manwich and
country wisdom, it ain’t never miss him
but that Ritalin ain’t gone get them young niggas out that white man’s prison
wantin’ more than 40 acres, so I read-double like bassoon player
fuck reparations we’ll never get that
or a plot of land for us to live at, if you plot plans to sit back
throw rocks and hid your hands, we got the gag for your trick-ass
ah! This ain’t Hollywood, it’s south cities to backwoods
projects to boondocks, my country family that’s hood
where they roll and smoke a pound, coke is toted town to town
mosque right next to Heaven Bound, niggas get ya soul found!

(Hook 2x) – Project Pat

(verse 3) – b.ware

yeah, I was ridin’ through the hood pushin’ a Honda Civic
ain’t nobody from my hood that I would ever forget
we was wishin’ to bear fruit, now I’m feelin’ like the last tree
take a walk in my Nikes, get ya dogs off that leash
see a playa stay down like ‘Kast in ‘94
even though The Love went Below, real niggas stay tryna grow
most can’t cope, caps get peeled, no will, nap in a ditch
while me and NoTiQ reinvent the wheel of this south shit
what up, Krit! True rhyme sayer, I’m set to bomb… Jager
meister, maestro the mic, flow, dodge po-po, protect the paper
they cookin’ and crock pottin’, no intention of stoppin’
on top of that coke like froth, the cops is watchin’
raisin’ my apprentices to bare the torch when I’m finished
and, this the beginnin’, a 1080p image
I’m just a young mane havin’ thangs on the grind
I let my gold shine, I’ma let my gold shine

(Hook 4x) – Project Pat