[Verse 1]
I'm the ever livin', the unforgiven
The oldie swinga', the drama bringa'
That 247 MC gun slinga, the bronx bomba
That black 'Gatti in the party
That human pump shotty with the built-in bachelor body
The baby maker, the heartbreaker
The show-stopper with a punk MC droppa with a 9 inch all-beef wopper
The predator, the dope-rhyme editor
The terminator, the fake studio gangster exterminator
The overlord, the one man clan
The "You should gimmie yo royalty check, because I started this shit man"
The finda', the feela, the I'm a fuckin' real go-getta
I already hit that bitch so I ain't sweat you cause you wit a nigga
The first stroke, the wild thing
The who gives a fuck about you man
The swollen OG zulu king, the widow maker
The child support line payer
The baby mothaducka, don't get me started in this mothafucka...
[Hook]
I’m a star, get love wherever I run
New York 'til I die, Hollywood til I’m done
I’m a star, it all started with a demo
And now I'm fuckin’ hoes and sniffin' cocaine in the limo
A star, what am I supposed to do?
New York 'til I die, Hollywood til' I’m through
I’m a star, on stage holdin' my shoes
And I’m so cool, ridas wanna fuck in my pool
[Verse 2]
I’m the lone like a phone stone
Keep prome chrome, from home, to home chrome
To brome, from dome, to dome nome, the on
Like phone from brome
Then you’re for gone to crone, being showed in Asterjohns
A bigga trigga, DJ go more stripped then tiger
Then figure I make a track go zip-zigga-zigga
More bigger than wickers in grain, think a nigga
The dam scuba, I make a girl go "Ooah"
I play like I win, you lay like you gay and you gay all day
Ain't that right homie? hay...
My dick smells like lipstick, perfume and grass
While yours is always smellin' like a homo's ass
The godfatha, prada you daughta, shot a lover gotta gotta
Gotta put my donna in my sana, to wanna wanna hold back nada high
Dan danna to Manana my little enginara, sayonara…
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
I take my time like a stopwatch
My style is top notch
It’s hip hop
I told you osh kush nigga, how to pop lock
You cock block
Sellin your rocks, hit the spots
Then get shot, she wear the tip top, and then you flip flop
You just the main plan, with strange plans, to stay in hand
In your wristband, the matter left the game change hands
My life was rhymin for your bother, mother, you lover, you little brother
You motherfuckers was rhymin for each other
Ha! I’m on with press, with flat chest, to press the New York meth
See the Will Smith is Jim West, sorry as Ali
I’m keepin' the far a nella show
I want smo-low, I’m askin' get shass big tuck
The bruise and all, your oversized shoes and all
Refuse, to choose, the new school blues and lose it all
The betta chetta getta from leatha, the leatha the shredda the spreada
I said is standin in the red sweather weather
(A star… A Star… A Star… A Star…)
1 2, 1 2 production, shit straight forward, here it is!
[Hook]
