Streets of Gold by Jay Robins Lyrics

[Jay Robins]
Ok Nigga, Streets made of gold
This is my home everybody probably thinkin I sold
Come back bold over thinkin the cold
Coming out in 15 degree weather wearin some shorts
Yeah I rocked this instrumental better than lebron in the basketball courts
Real
Homie can you feel the way I feel
Okay I'm back at it again
Come back like I scratch and winned
Everybody see that I am the man
Making the money gettin the honey
Snappin at every bitch that look at me funny
Yeah this is me the real killa the package deala
So yeah homie you can bet I feel ya
Nobody wanna be my homie unless they wanna be called a brony
Yea I'm rappin solo nobody told me I was realist I didn't need it I'm me
The kid comin causin a catastrofy
Thats probably why I call myself the only rapper better than double H double D Bubble B
Yeah and Mr. Mathers better come and find me
Before I try to stick my pinocio long nose up in riri's P, I'm kidding
Yeah this the land of the D yeah I'm reachin' Kendrick Lamar's Backseat freestyle dream