MIKE
Golden Hour
[Intro: MIKE]
Yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: MIKE]
Spend it fast, and get it back quicker
In the club but only splurging on the black stripper
I keep the fam fed and happy, that’s a hat tipper
Big Jatti keep catching on the bag zipper
With the bag-lifters
Out in Cali, unclassy I’m a bad lipper, big tag ripper
Lil’ fat, that's why I need the Rick pants bigger
Lil’ bands but I needa see the gang richer
Who your mans? I don’t see you in the gang pictures
It be fan fiction, where your hands?
Let me keep a couple grams in it
All that ham shit and tweaking, boy your plan glitching
Coulda ran with it
Got wit Naav, we been scheming on a grand mission
In the Gaza, the one where all the sand isn’t
They tryna jock us, but it only be embarrassin
All the carеlessness
I’m like Obama in your city, wе be airing shit
I’m a problem off a jiggy and a Claritin
For the somber, we was thieving in the clearances
Now I’m tryna put squad up on the Barron's list
Lotta bruises, lotta trauma, taking care of it
I ain’t choose how I was brought up, I’m aware of it
Nah I ain’t lose it, I was cautious, was beware of it
Thought we was through it, how I saw it but we here again
Yeah
[Verse 2: Larry June]
Midnight puff coat, I'm in Maryland
I'm in the '92 wagon playing Erykah
Chanel from '04, I look arrogant
I switch whips three times for the hell of it
And that was just in twenty-four so it's evident
I'm in Oakland with Alchemist and Evidence
I only play my own shit, I'm critiquing shit
And got so much sauce, I can't carry it
I got so many flows, I could share the shit
And got so many hoes, I could share the bitch
(Hold on MIKE, I'm 'bout to go in)
Orange stones in my piece like a Crush soda
Anybody in the way, get ran over
Copping work in Kapital in a Land Rover
On a reservation, white tee, Kangol
I'm pushing P in them spots that you can't go
I told her, "Grab some popcorn, it's the late show"
Tossed a carbon fiber kit on a grey Porsche
Macking on a lawyer bitch in my jean shorts
Yeah we got the same coupe but yours less horse
Is she gonna let a n***a hit? Come on now, of course

[Outro: Larry June]
C'mon, you should've knew it
You know how a n***a walkin,' just walked in like, uh
Sock it to me
I ain't come here to play no more motherfucking games, man
MIKE, what's happenin'?
NY to the Frisco
Hunter's Point to be exact
Uh, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye, aye