Royalist - Issa Gold

She hit me up like where you at, I’m with my hittas

Small circle of winners smoking, plotting on my business

She like fuck them niggas with you

Everytime I hit you

You ain’t never 'round, you missing

Talking 'bout you a commitment

I’ll be back and forth

Like I’m on a court, I’m tryna play the course

Taking notes

Tryna win a sport but nigga only lost

She chasing nostalgia

I’m taming my karma

Everytime I call her she be with it I just stall up

I’ll be fronting, cause I got something

I didn’t, it ain’t nothing

I tell her

I know I love it

She fresh out the shower, I tell I roll my marijuana

I be sipping colada like i’m on a beach in Cubana

She equip with the drama, until I fuck that bitch so proper

Young indigo prophet, my nigga ain’t no way to stop it

I be touring, Im somewhere foreign

You know I’m whoring

When I’m back around the state

You know she back up on my plate

She know she can’t lead the king

Her highness my favorite, royalist

Yeah she trust in God, but nigga heaven sent

Tryna get back, to the point where we could prosper

But the princess is a bitch, she turn a nigga from gold back to copper

Mind of gold, i showed her

That’s what i demote her

When she meet me she can’t reach my motorola

I be out, leave a nigga alone

Dont’t hit up my phone

Unless you need a nigga come and bone and put you in your zone

Coast to coast, need to check my post

Nigga always ghost

Reefer smoke

in my clothes, the airport let me go

While i’m flying niggas sipping whine

First try, she recline

Still divine, lyrics in my mind i think i jot 'em down

On my way back to the Stuy, around the realest

New York City state of mind, my nigga no one keep it triller

When i land

Gotta hit up before that sour stank, that’s super dank

Spent some, so i hit the bank

Go to my Corolla

Pick my phone up, call her

What you doing?

Come over drinks and marijuana

She said «Nigga hold up

Your girl ain’t 'gon show up?»

I’m like «bitch don’t worry 'bout it come get your shit tore up»

She know she can’t lead the king

Her highness my favorite, royalist

Yeah she trust in God, but nigga heaven sent

Tryna get back, to the point where we could prosper

But the princess is a bitch, she turn a nigga from gold back to copper