Texty:
Count The Stars Pictures

'm not like I once used to be, and I was all that I had, which wasn't all much in the end and this head, this heart, was breaking apart by the start

she got her nosed fixed, why she got bigger tits Why is y'all on my shit, damn, shut up bitch! Everybody talkin', all these haters hawkin' Paparazzi stalkin' takin' pictures

it?s over it?s over, for the soldiers who hear me That?ll get me in trouble Can I be closer, stay right near me Here we are, ain't no stars, uh huh

nine short hair big booty Looking like the leading lady starring in a movie Fly crib, Mercedes Benz She loves niggas like me and my shady friends And when we hang out, don't count

throwback He ain't real you know dat muhammad why they sold that We stepping on these niggaz like a muthafuckin door mat When I hit the scene they take pictures

up the max you count the issue Buy The Source cover for twelve months And send other rappers over to pose And take pictures for some potato chips and

stove until I'm dizzy Ball so hard it's like I brought the game with me Now my club so white, you thought I brought Jermaine with me About to paint a perfect picture

like a fat cat and count nothin' but g's The first mill that I make-uh, buy alot of acres, Plant all my weed, nigga what'cha need? Can you picture just

ll make ya head hurt When the hawk take the day off I make the lead work, I'll put you in the red dirt Ice make 'em look like stars, they comin' through