Goldfinger - Den Sy Ty, ize!

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle black

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle

Pot calling kettle black, ain’t give a fuck bout nothing but stacks

Snacking on whackness, jacking off Jill

Nothing out of ordinary, run of the mill

«Well, you sound like him,» «Yeah, your kinda like twins,»

A copy of a copy except you ain’t him

Goldfinger Cult Club, easy with the salt rub

Channeling the Dolly, Sheep Syndrome heartthrob

Wish we never met, felt fake from the jump

Baby face, baby powder slave for the bump

Lacking opinions, layered like onions

Chopping you down with my axe like Paul Bunyan

Don’t give a fuck coz I’m alien

Can’t be concerned with the plebians

Your hidden agendas we eat like placentas

The fountain of youth we be ancient descendants

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle black

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle

Pot calling kettle black

Tryna be relevant but running off track

The forces that be see you forcing your Chi

Biters be biting off more than they feed

Upset the flow, never listen to masses

Ashes to ashes, the cat with the baggage

Managing mischief, relieving of tragedy

Dark arts and magic this music the remedy

Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water

Your ego is getting you further and further

Preach and never practice, covert op tactics

Celebrity status on your mind’s apparatus

Fiending for the fame playing games cerebral

Mutating the truth, X-Men cathedral

Anything to shine bright, karma when the time’s right

Loving up the limelight out of mind and out of sight

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle black

Pot calling kettle black, pot calling kettle