Superstar lyrics

[Intro]
(2.42)

[Verse]
Went from benchwarmer to a star
Playing heavy metal with these fullys, we don't do guitars
I don't give a f*ck 'bout who you are
Buffs on, fifty on me, feeling like a superstar
In my bag, reach in it, you gon' lose an arm
Widebody, push the pedal, you gon' hear me zoom the car
Team player, but I'm always scoring like a shooting guard
I don't talk, I just let my soul bleed through the bars
Full-time rapper, been a minute since I tripped with cards
Two puffs, sh*t, I'm finna take a trip to Mars
Turned the flash on, running off, he ain't getting far
Must be money on the way, palms itching hard
Ten toes, b*tch, I'm stepping 'til my last step
Features five K, used to have to go and jack cash
If she ain't throwing neck, then I'm bouncing like a bad check
Unky said my white buffs remind him of his glass recs
f*cked up, walking through the rain, yeah, I still feel it
So now every time I'm in the coupe, you hear the wheels squealing
They lying if they said I didn't always keep it real with 'em
Flicked that one f*cker on the fully, I might killswitch 'em
Thirty on my hip, that ain't my jean size
Justin Verlander in the 'Wood, this a three-five
Talking 'bout the deep end and you ain't even knee-high
Talking 'bout a dub, you ain't never even seen five
Regardless, I'ma need mines
Life's short, sometimes wish that I could freeze time
Cut her off, told her that I need some me time
I'ma f*ck the sh*t out this b*tch if she keep eyeing
High as hell, b*tch, I'm fly as hell
Backwoods in rotation, never would I light a tail
Reach for this chain, I might f*ck around and die in jail
I'm the GOAT, if you hating on me, time'll tell
It's twenty K in that envelope, b*tch, find my mail
Brodie off the turtle juice, he moving 'round like a snail
We gon' turn your ass the f*ck down, acting hype as hell
Grinding in my Nike SBs, let me find a rail
My white boys got a joint stuffed
Pink in my cup, feel like Brooks, b*tch, I'm oinked up
SB, we up a whole lot, get your points up
Hating in the comments, I don't know you, what's your point, bruh?
Broke as hell, you really finished hating
You ain't the plug, I could catch you in the middle waiting
Left the b*tch at Sprint 'cause I spent like fifty minutes waiting
Shooter slimy if he get into a sticky situation
Gang too crazy like it's full of sixty mental patients
Glocky off the chain, it get really risky tryna take it
Had to cut her off, b*tch was only with me 'cause I'm famous
Skillet on the K, really got a sixty biscuit hanging
Huh, f*ck around and get your face burnt
I hope you know you gotta put the pape' first
Could've drove the long sleeve, but I came 'vert
How this lil' b*tch got all this ass, but she can't twerk?
Cut into her, how that brain work?
Diamond tester out, how much that chain worth?
Only with the family, but I ain't Durk
Dior bust my f*ckin head, eight on the plain shirt