Lyrics
Antique gold on my neck, down
Antique gold on my chick, down
I keep my gold tucked, no flex
Might put antique gold on my friends
All black and a ball cap, got Adidas on
Little nigga grew up, fall back, I don’t see you, homie, chill
I’ve been on my chill shit
L’Orange hit me up, told me «broadie, kill shit»
So I guess I’m something like a mercenary
Think about it, man, it’s kind of scary
So much, I love ugly, man, I’m feeling great
I take my girl out to the lake, but she driving
And I’m rubbing on her thighs, smoking dank, but fuck it
I wanna own an island out this shit, I’m too antique
I’m way too antique, way too antique
I guess I’m too antique, antique
I’m way too antique, way too antique
I guess I"m too antique, antique
Chill
(Antique)
Antique gold on my chest (down)
Antique gold up in my mind (down)
I keep the gold tucked, no flex
Maybe 'cause antique gold is by design
Brother, I was told that if I rocked gold
It would date me back to the first black man sold
Now picture me rocking at a slave auction
I can’t speak, I’m the new antique
My face and my hands needed Mozambique
All these perks of America are so damn sweet
If you believe in fairytales then you fit in to the fold
In the mold of that old antique gold
Enrolled in the death mill, life gets real
A lot of people out here upset still
But what the fuck are you going to do when they offer you
A whole hand full of dreams and it’s picking up steam?
Tricks up our sleeves and gold as you can see
Call your auntie and tell her we antique
I’m way too antique, way too antique
I guess I’m too antique, antique
I’m way too antique, way too antique
I guess I"m too antique, antique