Lyrics Dynoro – Rockstar

I’ve been fuckin’ hoes and poppin’ pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar
All my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin’ like a Rasta

(Okay)
(I’ve been fuckin’ hoes…)

I’ve been fuckin’ hoes and poppin’ pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar

I’ve been fuckin’ hoes and poppin’ pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar
All my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin’ like a Rasta
Fuckin’ with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrrata-ta-ta

Switch my whip, came back in black
I’m startin’ sayin’, «Rest in peace to Bon Scott»
Close that door, we blowin’ smoke
She ask me light a fire like I’m Morrison
Act a fool on stage
Prolly leave my fuckin’ show in a cop car
Shit was legendary
Threw a TV out the window of the Montage

Cocaine on the table, liquor pourin’, don’t give a damn
Dude, your girlfriend is a groupie, she just tryna get in

I’ve been fuckin’ hoes and poppin’ pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar
All my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin’ like a Rasta
Fuckin’ with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrrata-ta-ta

I’ve been in the Hills fuckin’ superstars
Feelin’ like a popstar
Drankin’ Henny, bad bitches jumpin’ in the pool
And they ain’t got on no bra
Hit her from the back, pullin’ on her tracks
And now she screamin’ out, «No mas»
They like, «Savage, why you got a 12 car garage
And you only got 6 cars?»
I ain’t with the cakin’, how you kiss that?
Your wifey say I’m lookin’ like a whole snack
Green hundreds in my safe, I got old racks
L.A. bitches always askin’ «Where the coke at?»
Livin’ like a rockstar, smash out on a cop car
Sweeter than a Pop-Tart, you know you are not hard
I done made the hot chart, ‘member I used to trap hard
Livin’ like a rockstar, I’m livin’ like a rockstar

(Okay)

I’ve been fuckin’ hoes and poppin’ pillies
Man, I feel just like a rockstar
All my brothers got that gas
And they always be smokin’ like a Rasta
Fuckin’ with me, call up on a Uzi
And show up, man them the shottas
When my homies pull up on your block
They make that thing go grrrata-ta-ta