Lyrics Xanman – Rockstar
Text:
Hello, who the fuck?
Hello, Hello
Hello mate, Fuck is you, British?
Moving the pan like I’m making some spinach
Martin Luther King, I had an image
Nah, bitch, no I didn’t
I wanted to be in the hood with the drug dealers, uh
Shout out to Kayydoo the plug killer
Rockstar, uh, uh, uh, rockstar
Chopper rock with the-like a rockstar, huh?
Chopper-like a rockstar
Chopper rock-uh, like a rockstar
Uh, like a rockstar
Chopper rock with the- like a-Brrr
Huh? Bitch!
Hol’ Xan, you and my man take a flick!
Hell no
I beat the pot, nigga, with my elbow
Gucci flips, nigga these ain’t no shell toes
Huh? Delete it
What you say? Ain’t repeat it
Cut the beat-conceited
Bah! Bah!
Chopper rock with the guitar, got a Ruger on me
Wilding out with the Glock, got the shooter with me
I got a couple bitches, got some Hooters with me
This ain’t U-Haul, I got the movers with me
You a big trapping nigga? Where them P’s at?
Get shot, six seconds, like King Bach
You can get shot in your head where you dream at
White plug doing ‘shrooms
I stay with the tree like I’m Rocket Raccoon
I «X» a nigga out, no Uber or pool
I want all the smoke in the world, like a JUUL
Shoot at his mother-Well, that’s kinda cruel
Big plug gon’ walk on an opp like a mule
They call me the shit, I ain’t talking the stool
My shooter with dreads, he look like Lil Dude
Lil’ bih’ wan’ be rich from the hood
Fortnite, when I creep in the woods
Walk down on lil’ cause, and got shook
Feel like an alternator, I’m in the hood
Hello mate, Fuck is you, British?
Moving the pan like I’m making some spinach
Big plug, lil’ nigga, I ain’t fitted
Martin Luther King, I had an image
Nah, bitch, no I didn’t
I wanted to be in the hood with the drug dealers, uh
Shout out to Kayydoo the plug killer
Rockstar, uh, uh, uh, rockstar
Chopper rock with the- like a rockstar, huh?
Chopper-like a rockstar
Chopper rock-uh, like a rockstar
Uh, like a rockstar
Chopper rock with the- like a-Brrr
Huh? Bitch!
I got a couple of shooters in Laurel
Hi, I’m Carl
When they start hating, they make you go hungry
I gave you my last dime, you wouldn’t give me a dollar
Twin glicks, Sister, Sister, like Roger
I’m in L.A., I might go to Nevada
They calling me Eden, I creep in your garden
I come in your stu, I might shoot at your artist
You don’t want contact, like you Hopsin
Big keys, we got keys like a locksmith
Keep a hammer, I feel like Thor: Ragnarok
In the streets, it’s still R.I.P. Sir Trap-A-Lot
Huh? Call me Steve Jobs, nigga, I mack a lot
Pull on her hair, she arch her back a lot
Bitches gon’ go whether I got racks or not
Went on a plane, nigga, I ain’t pack a lot
Hello mate, Fuck is you, British?
Moving the pan like I’m making some spinach
Big plug, lil’ nigga, I ain’t fitted
Martin Luther King, I had an image
Nah, bitch, no I didn’t
I wanted to be in the hood with the drug dealers, uh
Shout out to Kayydoo the plug killer
Rockstar, uh, uh, uh, rockstar
Chopper rock with the- like a rockstar, huh?
Chopper-like a rockstar
Chopper rock-uh, like a rockstar
Uh, like a rockstar
Chopper rock with the- like a-Brrr
Huh? Bitch!
Where your father going? To hell, hell yeah
Hell yeah highway
Where your aunt going? To hell hell
Where your mother going? To hell hell
Where we going? Nah, you going to hell, nigga, I’m going to Heaven, nigga
Big hell nigga
