Chad Muska - I'm A Star lyrics

[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 sh** man" The finda', the feela, the I'm a f**in' real go-getta I already hit that b**h so I ain't sweat you cause you wit a n***a The first stroke, the wild thing The who gives a f** 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 mothaf**a... [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 f**in' hoes and sniffin' c**aine 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 f** 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 n***a 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 gra** While yours is always smellin' like a h*mo's a** 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 n***a, how to pop lock You co*k 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 motherf**ers 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 sha** 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, sh** straight forward, here it is! [Hook]