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U-God - Fame | Текст песни

You know it's all about (fame, fame)
You know it's all about (fame)

[Verse 1: U-God]
I'm a winner in my book
Lean Cuisine in the kitchen, the fly cook
In the air like Kareem and the sky hook
Def juxt, my left hook
This is easy work
The mic mechanics, see the greasy shirt
This is easy perks
Photo 2-stepped out of the chopper
My bitch know she cute
Manolo boots keep cussin' at the hustlers
How you gon' get loot, you're cussin' out the customers
No sales, you better have my cash
If the feds don't grab me, I got lots of plans
I'll need goals, the all-star cast
In the leading role, call it cruise control
Everything is shakable, everything is takable
No chinks in my armor, I'm feeling unbreakable
Swimming through the sharks tank, I'm top rank for the

[Hook: U-God]
For the (fame)
For the (fame)
For the (fame)
For the (fame)
For the (fame)

[Verse 2: U-God]
On my arm I draw ink, resemble war tank
The glass tipper, spilling up more drink
All I do is think of ways to smash 'em
Eyes on me, rise for the anthem
Rings like Green Lantern in the green Phantom
Talk of the town, "Don't he look handsome?"
You're little league, you owe me major debt
It's the takeover, I'm cashing European checks
Brush your teeth, I'm your early morning toothache
Stomp the roach, this is how my boot taste
Cotton candy, high sippin' brandy
Pass me my suitcase you skinny pants fruitcake
Listen to the grime when it's mixed with crime
A dozen of my rhyme books, you're stalkin' on my timeline
From the foul line back to the huddle
Writin' tracks on the bullet train to the shuttle for the


[Verse 3: Styles P]
Raised by wolves like the book by Prevario
Did a lot of dirt but never would say sorry though
Wild like the latin boys down in El Barrio
Crook on the juxt then you better do your cardio
Run to him or run from him
He's a killer so you can't take his gun from him
He bagged coke so his hands feel numb from him
He's a cold-hearted bastard, better dumb dumb him
Preferably a .45, my job is making sure
If they violate the big man, the little shorty ride
Out in the stretcher in the ambalance
Me, I let the hammer blam for niggas
Moving grams on the hand to hand
If I'm talking snow, it's a avalanche
I ain't thinking of rap, catch me in the battle stance
Yeah it's the Ghost, motherfucker
Guns, rappers and blunts, yeah I smoke motherfuckers

[Verse 4: U-God]
Check out my drunk dance, the Killah Hill redbone
Put that on my headstone, you see the gemstone?
Caught it in the endzone, headphones Dr. Dre
The new sensation, yeah I got a lot to say
Let him speak, he's so misunderstood
Let him speak, the new voice of the hood
Never had the hype, always had the heart
Keep it simple and sharp, then I land on the charts for the

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