ᴛ ʜ ᴇ ꜰ ᴏ ʀ ᴍ ᴜ ʟ ᴀ

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V5.5

[Meta: Genre: Psychedelic Neo-Soul Hip-Hop / BPM: 78 / Key: Minor / Vocal Delivery: Extremely deep husky female voice, raspy, older woman, arrogant drawl]

[Instrumental Intro]

[Verse 1: Sassy rap, slightly faster flow, arrogant, cocky, heavy chest voice, husky, close mic]

Three AM, the counter's dirty, yeah the formula is lit,
pharmaceutical precision but I'm winging every bit.
Petri dish of punchlines — couple dead ones, couple sick,
morning check — the sick ones just mutated to a hit.

(Mmm...)

Cooking down the trauma on a low and lazy heat,
scraping off the bitter just to serve it to the street.
Threw my own insomnia inside the centrifuge,
what I couldn't sleep away became the dopest thing I'd use.

(Cook.)

Accidentally doubled up the dosage, cracked the glass,
spilled the whole confession on the counter — what a crash.
Wiped it with my sleeve and read the stain before it dried,
that motherfucking stain became the chorus, can't deny.

(Ha.)

I don't measure shit no more, I pour until it speaks,
took me sixty-seven batches and a couple shitty weeks.
But the one that finally hit was made from nothing but the scraps,
leftover emotion and a couple broken flasks.

(Warning.)

[Chorus: Melodic sassy chant, laid-back, half-sung half-spoken, confident lazy groove]

I just cook this shit and walk away,
come back in the morning see what's on the tray.
Half of it is broken, I still got you stuck,
Goldie in the lab and Goldie don't give a fuck.

(Mmm-hmm.)

[Verse 2: Sassy rap, slightly faster flow, same cocky energy, heavy chest voice, husky, close mic]

Back inside the lab, I left the burner running hot,
boiling down the bridges and the feelings I forgot.
Took a little taste of all the shit I said in June,
mixed it with the malice and it mutated the tune.

(Wait...)

Dropped my phone inside the mix and heard the voicemail play,
ex apologizing over 808s — shit, let it stay.
That's the kind of accident that money couldn't write,
real-life fuck-ups turning into something worth the night.

(Whoops.)

Now it's glowing on the table like a beautiful crisis,
didn't plan this shit at all — that's what the surprise is.
Every time I try to cook it clean it comes out raw,
one drop of the serum makes the FDA write a law.

(Yeah.)

Label on the bottle: take whenever life is rough,
warning on the side says Goldie — one hit is enough.
One dose and the playlist that you had won't sound the same,
you'll be fine, just fine... till you're crawling back for blame.

(Next patient.)

[Chorus: Melodic sassy chant, laid-back, half-sung half-spoken, confident lazy groove]

I just cook this shit and walk away,
come back in the morning see what's on the tray.
Half of it is broken, I still got you stuck,
Goldie in the lab and Goldie don't give a fuck.

(Mmm-hmm.)

2783/7500

[Meta: Genre: Psychedelic Neo-Soul Hip-Hop / BPM: 78 / Key: Minor / Vocal Delivery: Extremely deep husky female voice, raspy, older woman, arrogant drawl] [Instrumental Intro] [Verse 1: Sassy rap, slightly faster flow, arrogant, cocky, heavy chest voice, husky, close mic] Three AM, the counter's dirty, yeah the formula is lit, pharmaceutical precision but I'm winging every bit. Petri dish of punchlines — couple dead ones, couple sick, morning check — the sick ones just mutated to a hit. (Mmm...) Cooking down the trauma on a low and lazy heat, scraping off the bitter just to serve it to the street. Threw my own insomnia inside the centrifuge, what I couldn't sleep away became the dopest thing I'd use. (Cook.) Accidentally doubled up the dosage, cracked the glass, spilled the whole confession on the counter — what a crash. Wiped it with my sleeve and read the stain before it dried, that motherfucking stain became the chorus, can't deny. (Ha.) I don't measure shit no more, I pour until it speaks, took me sixty-seven batches and a couple shitty weeks. But the one that finally hit was made from nothing but the scraps, leftover emotion and a couple broken flasks. (Warning.) [Chorus: Melodic sassy chant, laid-back, half-sung half-spoken, confident lazy groove] I just cook this shit and walk away, come back in the morning see what's on the tray. Half of it is broken, I still got you stuck, Goldie in the lab and Goldie don't give a fuck. (Mmm-hmm.) [Verse 2: Sassy rap, slightly faster flow, same cocky energy, heavy chest voice, husky, close mic] Back inside the lab, I left the burner running hot, boiling down the bridges and the feelings I forgot. Took a little taste of all the shit I said in June, mixed it with the malice and it mutated the tune. (Wait...) Dropped my phone inside the mix and heard the voicemail play, ex apologizing over 808s — shit, let it stay. That's the kind of accident that money couldn't write, real-life fuck-ups turning into something worth the night. (Whoops.) Now it's glowing on the table like a beautiful crisis, didn't plan this shit at all — that's what the surprise is. Every time I try to cook it clean it comes out raw, one drop of the serum makes the FDA write a law. (Yeah.) Label on the bottle: take whenever life is rough, warning on the side says Goldie — one hit is enough. One dose and the playlist that you had won't sound the same, you'll be fine, just fine... till you're crawling back for blame. (Next patient.) [Chorus: Melodic sassy chant, laid-back, half-sung half-spoken, confident lazy groove] I just cook this shit and walk away, come back in the morning see what's on the tray. Half of it is broken, I still got you stuck, Goldie in the lab and Goldie don't give a fuck. (Mmm-hmm.)

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