Anderson Paak - Heart Of Gold Lyrics

I was up in Berlin
Maybe it was Belgium
Talking up a whirlwind
Pretty young thing
Nobody's for certain
Riding her wave
God, she was surfin'
Two hearts hurtin'
Broke beat perfect
Damn to like pain
Sweatin' like rain on my (chain)
Left a little stain
Was she runnin' game?
I know I was runnin' game but

I wanna live
I wanna give
I've been a miner for a heart of gold
It's these expressions
I never give
That keep me searching for a heart of gold
(Gold all in my watch, gold all in my chain)
Keep me searching for a heart of gold
(Gold all in my watch, gold all in my chain)

Searching for something
So we entered through the matter to find what we needed
It's so much harder than I fathomed, my logic divided
If all I wanted was a hit, then I'd probably be famous
To be respected by my peers was the reason I did it
Go five years in the struggle, ain't much to a nigga
When one week of livin' lavish can f*ck up your liver
Who needs provision when you covered in diamonds and pendents?
Who needs the temporaries when bitches are dyin' to get it?
I copped the ring, I caught feelin', abandoned the bride
Sold that shit for half the price just to keep on the lights
Look in the eyes and be surprised if there's anything worth mentioning
Broken-hearted in misery, pity
But while I dwell, I owe a lot of niggas
Before I finished this sentence, I promised to make bail

I've been to Hollywood
I've been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I've been in my mind
It's such a fine line
That keeps me searching for a heart of gold
(Gold all in my watch, gold all in my chain)
Keeps me searching for a heart of gold
(Gold all in my watch, gold all in my chain)

Here it goes, another diatribe from Leopold
Screaming at minors not to make the same mistakes when we're old
I was a miner for pyrite
Now I'm in PriceRite buying pie tins and thin mints
Shin splints for a retired digger downsized signal thin hints
That I'm a retired nigga
I'm just looking for a woman who will let me sing in the shower now
For a woman who doesn't have Dwight Eisenhower brows
I feel dumb listening to Neil Young, I recline
The spiel was sung and still I decline
The laughing track was always lethal
And I can never remember what size you like your frappuccinos
You say those heart pains were a fluke
Praying to Saint Luke in the morning
Never glanced up from reading Marmaduke, I'm in mourning

But where should I find you
Well of course I should dwell deep within the regions of your mothers mouth
Do not fret my child, for our love is there