Golden Age

Yeah okay
Trebor, here we go

Yeah, how do I acquire some wealth?
For me I want some motherfucking platinums under my belt
Age of the golden Phelps
Jordan, no I can't fail
I'm soaring, writing a tale
I'm Thorfinn, setting the sail
I've been way too overlooked
I've tighten each rhyme and hook
Coconut crab couldn't grab this book
Back in the lab, and I'm stacking these pads
Looking real back when I was just wee lad
This a comeback like I just relapsed
Think about tracks make a fucker real sad
I ain't make a bag but I know that's the tack
This is the second edition
Spitting like debt has just risen
And that's because fuck it has
And man, if my life was a map
Shit would be missing a path
Scribbles and dashes, could be the literal fastest
Raps could have multiple facets
Gotta outlap these bastards
No baton to me, but it's fine to me
I'll write till I dine at the wineries
Fly high in the sky on finest seat
Courtside with the camera eyein' me
Iced out with a giant shining piece
Fuck around, no rubber, and die in peace
Buy five Buggati's, stain the driver's seat
Look around like fuck is what wrong with me?

If I were do that, I would look stupid
Man I'm put here to be a goddamn poet
Ain't here to lose bad, that includes the damn cash
Save it, cause the goddamn time ain't slowing
Time going too fast, and I can't loop back
So I use raps to hang tight to the moment
No time to relax, back to another track
I can see the goal, shit my mouth keeps foaming
I can't slow and rollback, no I can not do math
But no work and no grind means motherfucking nothing
Trying get a damn plaque, find it with the right rap
I can take an L, I'm a man, I'mma own it
Falling on my damn ass, back until I win, stacked
Don't got the money, but the shop ain't closing
Lose the fucking nametag, just a few years flat
Looking back and laugh at the time I was growing
I'm tired of working for companies, lumping me
Hungry to fucking work for myself
Luckily, I've been a killer bee, silently
Writing these rhymes to just put on my shelf
Deliver the dopamine, hoping you roll with me
Know that I got so much stories to tell
May not have the image, may not have the bitches
But I got a vision, gotta keep it vicious
When it comes writing, only thing I'm fine with
Pen is always flying, ink is always drying
Ain't into fighting, but I am aiming for the title
Blood, sweat, and tears, man, this shit is just vital
Aiming for the moon, you can call my shit Apollo
Dreaming in this room, hoping soon I can fly off
Can't change who I am, shit I am who I am
Future looking bright with the game in my hands