(feat. Pharrell Williams (Neptunes))



[Repeat through intro]

Star Trak, Star Trak - Star Trak

[Intro: Pharrell Williams]

Lord I've seen so many things

That make me wonder why

But if the Fettaralis comes to take my life

Just give me the wings to fly

And I'll say, to myself, yeah

What a wonderful..



[Rosco P. Coldchain]

Well well well, why don't you you roll your window down

I want you to see this



[Chorus]

[PW:] When a nigga is delinquent with cash in hand

Even if it's just a couple of grams

[RC:] Nigga do what I do, nigga drop that motherfucker

Pop that motherfucker!



[Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain]

I done squeezed more guns than Charleton Heston

And if you niggaz mouths persist to run on, I'm a continue to step on

Every limb on, every inch of yo body

You better hope the outlaw better never go broke

You fuck around you be the one being smacked around wit a gun

No joke slick, I'll shoot your papa and tie your mama up

Whoop out an eight and pull out a straight, bitch take a hit of this coke

Now, I advise you niggaz to chill

My percentile rises in the battle field

Your gangsta rating declining when it's time to kill

You rewindin, is it Rosco's rounds you feel?

Your eyes blinded, not from the ice but the light from my steel

Ya'll niggaz never seen real bread

The Stroheman type that buy car, brick

Home and bikes, all at the same time I haven't either

Basically what I'm saying I'll jam you, one Desert Eagle

Uhh, coat change Jack!



[Chorus x2]



[Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain]

Why did the dickhead cross the road?

Man I hit 'em with a 12 gauge

And I didn't give him a chance to reload

That's what inexperienced gangstas get for playing a role

You hatin on my dough?

Look now there goes an angel taking your soul

Fuck you, your fun, and your 4.6

I can push a renter, peel 'em wit guns and still be the shit

It'll be nice to be rich, but I'd rather be well off

A half a pile raw, house in Conshohocken

In a rimmed Impala I roll with thugs and thieves

Not the petty kind but the ones that'll make you get on your knees

And pursaude you with their thundering pound

To give up your valuables or they gunning you down

I wanna leave the pullitzers even though you cooperated

They still letting off rounds

Now in your own matter you drown

Greed and insanity drove me to start killing you clowns

41 caliber slugs stuck in your bladder now

Clipse, Rosco P. - we platinum bound



[Chorus x2]



[Verse: Rosco P. Coldchain]

You niggaz would love to see me gone

In a plastic bag ligaments torn

But bitch I pop more niggaz than I pop Perkisets

Thump on you so hard I'll make it seem like

Even if you were strapped your hammer just ain't working right

Bullets coming in flurries, fiends coming in a hurry

At a quarter to four in the morning, knocking at my crackhouse door

Neighbors waking up yawning, secretly calling the police

Draw'n, and that fact I'm ignorin

Like I'm not running a 24-Hour drugstore

Like I ain't got enough guns to take on an armed force

Remmington will leave ya mind simmering

In a fine blood sauce when I'm pissed off

Which is all the time so you better get lost

I ain't got a fine line

These slugs will leave ya twitching like a schitz' and smoke his jaw

You dealing with a repeat feloner

If we can't see eye to eye, I'm a sea level ya

And I mean that, deado



[Chorus]