Holes in my pocket, the gold on my neck, It's getting too heavy I can't catch a breath.
IN GOOD TIME EP
I sold my soul to the Devil himself to get lost on a yellow brick road.
So you live your life losing sleep 'cause you just can't seem to find the perfect sentiment.
Spend every August in the Hamptons baby. When we're fifty and still looking good.
I don't need much just tell me that you love me. I know right now I ain't made of money. But everything I make imma' give to you.