Stay Golden

Planet AsiaPlanet Asia 

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Planet Asia

Jason Green (born October 24, 1976), better known as Planet Asia, is a rapper from Fresno, California. He is prominent for being one half of the now broken up hip-hop duo the Cali Agents and is currently a member of the groups Gold Chain Military and more recently, Durag Dynasty. He is also well known for his vast discography of mixtapes. more »

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Ayo camp Lo we out for Lucci
The niggas that you idolize is food
In my eyes still they all salute me
I get a groupie to hit your
Drink with the roofie, jook ya jewelry
Try to front we dump fire at your kufi
My pen a uzi on a loose leaf
Niggas know my body I body anybody
Who think they nice truthfully
Keep a cute freak stashing my packages
Dabble with all different kinds of
Work you faggots rappin' fibs
Got it out the mud then I rose up clean
Allergic to broke we eating now
My face in foreign magazines
Everything I'm on turn golden I
Got the touch of Midas
Fly crime rhyme writer, shine blind ya iris
Gold bracelet on the right wrist
My bitch like the ghetto Isis
Righteous with the vice grips
Pretty and her mind sharp like an ice pick
A battered piece on the chess board
Is a queen turned lifeless the fundamentals
Where having the guns essential
Especially if you into what I'm into
Don't be afraid to bust
Sometimes your friends
Will make plots to end you
Just be wise enough to spot
The signs and symbols
I'm dedicated to the grind but still will
Come up off a fine swindle
An easy victim what your kind resembles
Hand over the merchandise or it's your
Life homie I find it simple

Check lets get in gankin'
I used to hit the summer
League waitin' for Steve Rankin
That's Fresno shit
I left the coast quakin' pushing this dope
We posted up with something fake
In your face blank, dinner plate scrape
Out of state or inner state we cake breakin'
The fly philosophies hot enough
To debate Satan
The hours is ours, now or tomorrow
The lessons is plus you in
The realms with powerful Jabbar
That nocturnal fox earl ox
To Lacoste boss work
Bossin' over pasta we the mobsters
That'll pop ya block up
And double back and let the second
String let out the monster
So many drums bystanders feel like
This shit's a concert
Uh, owe me money and ima go dummy
I'm with the shooters with paper
Who keep they clothes bummy
Forty racks and nothing less than
From central vale
Where niggas risk they lives all
Over muscle car investments

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