Gold

What you see is what you get
My roots... it’s kind of aching
My mind is kind of sore
My streets sometimes dirty
the crowd wants some more
My body... a collision
Of pride and control
Underneath my red
dress
A skin made of gold
What you see is what you get
What you see is what you get
I see a woman with a soul
I see a city no one controls
What you see is what you get