Styles P - Star Of The State lyrics

Yo Vinny Idol, what do you call under the underground?

(Twin Ghost Experience!) YEAH!

From a hood where niggaz is miserable

Either gon' dead you or leave you in critical

Niggaz talkin money then show me the visual

And then stand right there and get plucked like a chicken feather

Stickin up the stick-up kids, nigga I'm sick as ever

The gun is my bitch, and I bet you we stick together

Stuck like two dogs fuckin

You must be ready to die, fuckin with me like, you want somethin

Ring your bell and I have you like "Who call? "

Smack you with a bat like Pujols, bottom of the ninth

You don't wanna see me at the bottom of the pint

Rowdy, be outtie cause I'm a problem for the night

Problem for your life, leg or arm missin

I can step it up, have you doubt or your mom missin

S.P. the Ghost and I'm trom' hittin

Arm kickin anytime I'm spittin nigga just like a bomb hittin

Somebody food gettin ate (gettin ate, yeah)

Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (for they plate nigga)

You know I go hard for the cake

When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state (nigga what)

I'm the star - somebody food gettin ate (food gettin ate, gettin ate)

Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (robbed for they plate motherfucker)

You know I go hard for the cake (it's the Twin Ghost Experience!)

When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state

I'm the star

Yo, yo, yo I'm a tell you how we do on the Island

Squeeze your girl ass, now what, knock your punk ass off balance

You can't come through Mickey D's, no burger no cheese

Find your head missin, do you still want the #3?

+Big Mac+, large order of 9's, no shake, we got shells

Pissin on y'all bitches like R. Kell's

And more or less staple your balls together

And light you in kerosene, melt your whole face in your sweater

You see the rubber gloves, thugs

Nervous doctors play in the E.R., still wind up pullin the plug

Cause it's a Twin Ghost Experience, flesh and spirit

We bang, even the dead listen to deadly lyrics

Make Big turn in his grave, even 'Pac can hear it

Cochran, on Dirt's death, yo they tryin to appeal it

But fuck that, all we want is the crack, the cash in bags

Come through heavy, you might get yapped; motherfucker!

A lot of niggaz hoped I would die young

Pitched in the hood hard, want me to Cy Young

Real sharp words, guess I got me a fly tongue

Always get high cause I feel high-strung

I don't buy jewels, I buy haze and I buy guns

Or they "hear me now" like the dude from Verizon

Look at my eyes son, you won't see the next horizon

Kickin that typical rap, despicable rap

Or to get a hawk in your face, clip in your back

Guess who, still keep the thing in the sweatsuit

Hot blood leakin out your face is the best soup

Food in the kitchen nigga, shit in the restroom

Wreck when it's wreck time, S.P. the Ghost is five star

Orders to the death when I rep mine

King and the queen die, just like chess time

If I don't kill you now I'll catch yo' ass next time