goldenboy countup – 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 d+ckie ‘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)
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