arierr - $tar player lyrics
[intro] coach used to hate me but its good now i’m the “$tar player” hmm yea waddup jose i ain’t gone lie you tripped on this mf (jose the plug)
[chorus]
coach was talking down, but it’s good now; i’m the star player. you ain’t talking pape? i gotta go; i’ll see you later. good lamb chops with the steak; shout out to the waiter. racing scat packs up the block, i’m p+ssing off the neighbors boy, yo ass broke; 1 like equals 1 prayer. there’s a red beam on the stick; i feel like darth vader. she could be drowning; i wouldn’t throw a b+tch a lifesaver. dawg clark kent, he saving hoes, and he a pape saver
[verse]
pull up, shoot this b+tch from anywhere, something like a demigod. f+ck gta; i’m on the road trying to dodge the cops. don’t hit my phone on bullsh+t, or you’re getting blocked. big chop got me looking like i hit the mystery box
how you d+ck+sucking and you broke, dawg? you need to stop. crazy how it got a green light but makes the opps stop. yeah, i’m winning now, but back then i used to lose a lot. hold on, lil’ b+tch, sit back and watch this visa pop
you were talking down; now it’s f+ck you, we can’t shake hands. listen, lil’ b+tch, i don’t got it; go bug your other man. i know you see the x upon my shoes; b+tch, these are not vans. don’t ask me where the plug is ’cause i’m gon’ point you toward the nightstand
[chorus]
coach was talking down, but it’s good now; i’m the star player. you ain’t talking pape? i gotta go; i’ll see you later. good lamb chops with the steak; shout out to the waiter. racing scat packs up the block, i’m p+ssing off the neighbors boy, yo ass broke; 1 like equals 1 prayer. there’s a red beam on the stick; i feel like darth vader. she could be drowning; i wouldn’t throw a b+tch a lifesaver. dawg clark kent, he saving hoes, and he a pape saver
[verse 2]
we are not the same; they know my name when i walk into saks. you can send the pape, but best believe you ain’t getting it back. how the f+ck my shoes say off+white, but they’re really black? if you switched up, it’s f+ck you; there ain’t no coming back
you can’t get the hoes, and you’re broke, so you ain’t seen no racks. i gotta go hard; i got reasons. don’t tell me to relax. rip steve jobs, gotta thank you for making the jacks. let ’em throw a fist; chopstick will take ’em off the map
saks, bloomingdale’s, neiman marcus, finna f+ck sh+t up. i see why they hating, cause they know they cannot f+ck with us. finna hit up morton’s for the plate and get my stomach stuffed. no cap, even stevie wonder can see i’m really up
boy, yo ass broke as a b+tch; yo ass need a crutch. you had a lil run nine months ago, but now you outta luck. i was disappointed last time i gave a girl my trust. jumped in my bag, now i’m trapped like the zipper’s stuck
[chorus]
coach was talking down, but it’s good now; i’m the star player. you ain’t talking pape? i gotta go; i’ll see you later. good lamb chops with the steak; shout out to the waiter. racing scat packs up the block, i’m p+ssing off the neighbors boy, yo ass broke; 1 like equals 1 prayer. there’s a red beam on the stick; i feel like darth vader. she could be drowning; i wouldn’t throw a b+tch a lifesaver. dawg clark kent, he saving hoes, and he a pape saver
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