Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song They Come in Gold, artist - Shabazz Palaces. Date of issue: 28.07.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
They Come in Gold |
| Vanity, I love you for myself |
| Me and always you and always never no one else |
| Sanity, a visage of my wealth |
| Lost but always found before the idols that I’ve knelt |
| Strategy, the only way to cry |
| Keep it do or die, and always think in terms of «I» |
| Reverie, some legends future’s past |
| Revelry instead for it renders hella fast |
| Capital, a sound that’s on the rise |
| It’s slaking unrealized until essence has been razed |
| Sepulcher, a stage enlived by ghosts |
| Floating off with bags of the blood-encrusted dough?, for simple it is him |
| It’s black and feeling pedalistic catastrophic hymn |
| Darkness, the light that flashed the dead |
| Keep them stellar layers, to which my kind is the heirs?, the jesters game of |
| vice |
| The cries incorporates slaying door and heist |
| I just walked around and walked around |
| They just watching down, they watching down |
| What they talking about, they talking about |
| Don’t you copin' out, don’t copin' out |
| From a cold clod cut in a deep zone |
| A sunken ship with the ghost on |
| They put my seat in there, upon a plaza |
| Under the chair hot, tucked in a dope spot |
| So the chrome tire screech every time we hit |
| We converse in ancient languages |
| If you come to see us this is what you get |
| Specialist, equipped for the long trip |
| And my jacket fits and I’m packing it |
| So miraculous, kinda statuesque |
| Legends carry like a killer’s nerves |
| One picture worth a thousand swerves |
| Facts stated to enhance what is pre-born |
| With the white whale on the Pequod |
| And finds a way fast when the road curve |
| It’s a sea saw, shall I go, shall I go |
| Look at me fall, did I know, did I know |
| On a gilded wing, driving filthy rings |
| Go back, go back, this your go back |
| Yeah you say cool, but it’s an old act |
| Shall we raise a drink? |
| What the fuck you think? |
| The home where angels sing |
| And my favorite color brown with pink taint |
| I believe to own is he, I’mma hold the chrome, a tight grip |
| They might trip, boy, 'cause the way I talk shit get it joy |
| Them just walking around, them walking around |
| They just watching down, they watching down |
| What they talking about, they talking about |
| Ain’t no copping out, no copping out |