Pot Of Gold (feat. Miyachi, Wiz Gamb, Range da Messenga & Zion Shadé)

Hey, uh I want my pot of gold They tryna tuck me under fold I'm shinin' no designer clothes I'm grinding u ain't tryin' to grow I'm sick of playing minor chords the system tryin' to mini me I lost my homie yo we vow to give 'em misery I started off with no road Philly dolo rusty dojo Fitted cap khaki polo Many people want a brief high, that's the coco I'm tryin' to cop the crib and keep mine ain't mad at slomo yea Kris we in the lab he got the soul touch I'm with the crew we tryin' to carry out the gold cup If it ain't a win I'm gonna make a whole fuss Never going back to holding packs and ducking those cuffs I went and chose the work I see u chose luck Tokyo hoes will catch the boy u see they froze up I'm tunnel tho pain will keep u numb and humble tho Blow the smoke and give 'em some of what I'm coming for When you're looking for your pot of gold The path you chose to travel might get cold But who knows knows knows if you'll get your pot of gold I was 16 I had dreams not the Martin Luther King kind More like scar face thinking that the world was mine So many hours spent slinging I was wasting time But the way them feens came who could blame the god Conscious eating me alive but I had to survive Wanted that big body 5 with pretty eyes Skies the limit I was thinking till my brother died Tears in my eyes thinking murder while my soul fried About to throw it all away wouldn't be who I am today I had soul ties So I kept it pushing continued on mission Didn't want to listen until I saw the vision yeah Fearless and bold traveled on the lonely road Prayed to god didn't have to sell my soul for a pot of gold Fearless and bold traveled on the lonely road Prayed to god didn't have to sell my soul for a pot of gold When you're looking for your pot of gold The path you chose to travel might get cold But who knows knows knows if you'll get your pot of gold Ah one two got a few dudes out to get it Hustle now in Philly I was raised in Virginia Spent some time in the Caroline's Findin myself some folks had told me I was dope, I been remindin myself Rememberin the way back when rewinding myself Made some mistakes I wasn't kind to myself These rhymes are therapeutic me the counselor and patient I type my thoughts into my phone Or jot em on the paper come back to em later Puff a pen pal I'm feelin faded Meditative The conversation of kings The contemplation of things This is fam, crew 7 Wiz Gamb we premium And no fucks given with love That's how we treatin em 7 is the number of completion and perfection Shawty peep in the direction then secrete on the erection Then gets to steppin like Martin Payne be tellin folk Ya gotsa go, I'm back up n my mode trackin my pot o gold fosho When you're looking for your pot of gold The path you chose to travel might get cold But who knows knows knows if you'll get your pot of gold