Rockstar Life++

[Hook: Karoshi Tarantino]
Aye, Aye
Got this shit up from the ground, from the basement
Pussy boy lacking, put him on the pavement
Heard you a rat, heard that you wrote a statement
Out in Baltimore, I ball like a raven
That boy a lick, he is barbecue chicken
Brand new Maserati, nigga I'm whipping
Pussy nigga, why yo ass always tripping
Catch you in traffic, no strap, why you slipping?

[Verse 1: Karoshi Tarantino]
I been stacking all this green, bitch I'm healthy
If he talking shit, he mad that I'm wealthy
Right foot creepin' with the stick, bitch I'm stealthy
Sneaky talking, pussy nigga come tell me
Play with that bitch like that bitch a controller
I been moving all these pins like a bowler
Grinding for the green just like I'm a roller
Your bitch pussy is too fire, I told her
Beat that bitch pussy up, nigga she achin'
Got the dreadheads with the sticks, they jamaican
He felt the earthquake just like he a hatian
Cooked him in the pan, that nigga like bacon
Feel like Chief Keef, bitch I've never been sober
She want some dick so I told her come over
Just caught 3 bodies, I feel like the Joker
That bitch a freak so she want me to choke her

[Hook: Karoshi Tarantino]
Got this shit up from the ground, from the basement
Pussy boy lacking, put him on the pavement
Heard you a rat, heard that you wrote a statement
Out in Baltimore, I ball like a raven
That boy a lick, he is barbecue chicken
Brand new Maserati, nigga I'm whipping
Pussy nigga, why yo ass always tripping
Catch you in traffic, no strap, why you slipping?

[Verse 2: Colin Khors]
Catch you in traffic, no strap, why you slipping?
These rappers don't write all they bars, bro they chicken
Just got me a new draco, grab the extension
I keep me a strap to help relieve tension
Whole Lotta Red, boy you worship the devil
You can not touch me, I am on a new level
Brand new Aventador, pushing the pedal
Just fucked on your girl and that bitch is a rebel
Got so many diamonds, boy look at my bezel
Rolls Royce Umbrella, no this ain't a Chevelle
Count up the money, don't got no accountant
Shot up the block and that shit looking dusty
That shit that you making sound way too damn rusty
Come get your girl, she smell way too damn musty
Call up my manager, told him to trust me
Me and Karoshi locked in so robustly

[Verse 3: Lil Juul Pod]
Me and Karoshi, we getting the pack too
I got a Glock and I keep me a mac too
Sippin' lean made me fat too
I got the pack and I dip like it's fast food
Standing tall like a statue
I pop me a perc and come down in a bad mood
Walking around and I'm spending my racks too
My name hold weight like a fat dude
[?]
She wanna suck my dick, that's what the cash do
Whippin' in the 'rari in the road, finna pass you
Hit my plug [?]
Eating on steak, boy you eating on cat food
Yeah your bitch singing my songs, what the racks do
I don't know who you are, ain't gon tag you
You ain't got no money, had to pack you
Got the gas so loud [?]
That's what the racks do
Get the bag, spend it on saks too
Yeah