Superstar lyrics

[Intro]
(WoodOnDaBeat)
Golden, CountUp
Ayy
I'ma let this b*tch breathe, n*gga
But I got my foot on these n*ggas' neck, won't let these n*ggas breathe, n*gga
Yeah
Jump in this coupe, b*tch, put your seatbelt on
n*gga goin' a hundred miles per hour through the stop signs
Ayy, come on
I'm on that fly sh*t
Uh, I'm on that fly sh*t
n*gga, ayy
Golden, mmm

[Verse 1]
So much pain in my body, mama, I don't know who to trust
Always knew I was gon' blow, n*gga, I feel it in my gut
I was broker than a b*tch, rollin' mids in a Dutch
Mike died, n*gga, I gotta get these M's, it's a must
I treat her like a baby mama, but she used to be my lady
And I ain't takin' care of you hoes, n*gga, I'm takin' care of my baby
You b*tches kicked me whеn I was low, so don't be mad a n*gga made it
And Golden rеally seein' M's now, my ex-b*tches hate it
n*gga, I was f*cked up, I was sleepin' in my car
n*gga, I was posted up sellin' weed out a jar
n*gga, I sold a hundred pills, then I bought my first car
Fast forward a couple years, Golden, you a superstar, ayy
[Interlude]
Trap sh*t, n*gga
Came out that motherf*ckin' trap for real, n*gga
Give a f*ck what no n*gga talkin' 'bout, n*gga
Feel me? Ayy
Know what I'm sayin'?
It ain't 'bout the, it ain't 'bout the
It ain't 'bout the hardest n*gga, n*gga
Then get that motherf*ckin' money, n*gga

[Verse 2]
Dope boy Res and di*kie 'fits, n*gga, we trapped out
f*ck n*gga, you ain't really gettin' no money, we know you capped out
I just f*cked this b*tch like a dog, then she tapped out
I'll drop them bands on that n*gga, get him clapped now
Dope Nikes and white tees, jit, we really trap
We don't even listen to them n*ggas 'cause they really cap
On my mama, I'm a trap n*gga, I don't really rap
How the f*ck them n*ggas in the club and them n*ggas strapped?
I just f*cked a pretty Black b*tch on two hundred thousand
Told cuh this a long way from them public houses
I got rap money, trap money, I got money pilin'
I can peep a police-ass n*gga, I can hear the siren
Four-forty-eight on that scale, that's a whole chicken
n*gga, you want thirty-three grams? That's a Scottie Pippen
He say he can't trust his own dogs, they'll Money Mitch him
Cuh, your people snake, n*gga 'round you, better go and flip him (Brrt)