R.O.C.K. S.T.A.R.

I pick up the guitar with the right hand and I drive with the left to pick up the band
we light a doobie and get high its groovy
coca, lsd, speed, heroin its all part of my life got myself a schedule
whatevers left we give to the roadies and watch them od off the residual
its like 24/7 on fox life slows down to a minute taking an hour
makes me feel secure like im in charge i have the power
i got the yes men the naysayers but I've got more of the latter if the ticket payers are any indicators
the hoes are present the paparazzi follow me they earned my resent
I been a hustler since me cut our first cd way before we was living in the pent
open mic open stand just me and guitar jt and bass and tommy on the drums
me i got the broken thumbs while JT AND TOMMY eat the plums
the fruit of my labor while the fans want me to them I'm a slave
I attent each every rave
It looks like soon I'm a fall out boy
been to battle of the bands and won every call out boy
I'm popular and nodular the room appears fogular
so as i shoot up as the pressures group up i light up and inject and suddenly i dont need the respect
and then it gets white and i od
but it dont matter in the next life ill be a black og

Thanks!?