Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Palace’ by A$AP Rocky. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of A$AP Rocky or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
Goddamn, how real is this?
I know them Harlem niggas gon’ be feeling this
East Coast nigga, but how trill is this?
Still don’t give a shit, my ignorance is still a bliss
Stone cold love, rose gold slugs
I could afford it, I imported stone cold drugs
Stone cold, rolling stone, I’m a stoned nigga
Write it on my tombstone, I was stoned nigga
Don’t remember me as a wannabe New Orleans nigga
Slash lean sipping, Tennessee nigga, nah
Influenced by Houston, hear it in my music
A trill nigga to the truest, show you how to do that
My all gold grills give her cold chills
Said she’s got a coke feel cause I’m so trill
Two dope boy scales, but I sold pills
No L, put her on her feet, toe nails
Them vampires, them blood suckers, them thirsty killers
We ’bout it ’bout it, we rowdy rowdy, that Percy Miller
For really real, we chilly chill, don’t sport Chinchilla
No bounty hunters, I’m bout to killa, I’m bout my skrilla
Give me the title, then give me the cash
Fold it then bag it then move to the trash
Follow my stash, stealing my swag
Niggas is wickity wickity wack
Like Kriss Kross
Her lip gloss, slip-ons get slipped off
My bitch, boss, Cristal
We smoking then thinking then burning that hash
Puff it and pass, making it last
Walk in my shoes and cross in my path
Game was for grabs, making ’em crash
Took in a section and giving they back
F*ck the money, f*ck the fame, this is real life
The insights of my trill life
Goddamn, how real is this?
I know them Harlem niggas gon’ be feeling this
East Coast nigga, but how trill is this?
Still don’t give a shit, my ignorance is still a bliss