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john wesley (rap) - famous كلمات الأغنية

oh, ltb, 2014
i don’t know what my goals are anymore
i don’t want to be famous, but i’m dealing with a different side of me i’ve never met before
stress, there’s plenty more
in the middle of nowhere sitting by myself on an empty porch
losing interest pursuing rap popularity
i hear my favorite artists and their back-talk is daring me
to quit, you haven’t heard “rap god” apparently
or seen effects of hearing madness knock hysterically
why would i want to make it just so i can get famous
get trapped in the rap game when i know that it is dangerous
going from flipping tables to flipping pages
only question is medication or life, which do you risk taking?
i’ve been saving this anger daily, god i’m anxious
to get some fans who aren’t just friends who feel obligated
now i’m complaining, fame is not awaited
have a pity-party by a parade so it can start raining
send me to h-ll i just want to rip apart satan
and smack a bunch of parents who have kids that they aren’t raising
raise h-ll like i reached into and picked it up
threw it, and got rid of everybody that isn’t love
would i survive or never live it down
if word i’m a fict-tious compulsive liar gets around
so is he made up or does that mean that he never lies
if you can’t think for yourself, then never mind
can’t operate without a notebook and g2 pen
i want you at my show, even if you’re too young
and they won’t let you in, come see me and i will sneak you in
lady out there is shirley phelps, she’s a c-u-n-
team player, world leader and dream slayer
her and her family need prayer
share the good news, she’s the lead anchor
she stayed over one night, turned me straight, there’s no way i could repay her (thank you god!)
maybe with razor blades and steak knives
perform the song for her but say favor f-gs and g-y rights
after the parade we’ll form a straight line (haha)
and march into the m-ss funeral and picket that we hate signs
and make signs with a circle, crossed out, with a sign in the middle
and if you need help k!lling yourself i’ll supply you the pistol
see i don’t know if i believe in hoping people die
but i’m just being honest and most of you know the reason why
you’d better buy the version of my album that is not amended
i’ma take your mind and bend it, you won’t even comprehend it
the story of a man who never gave god-attention
and started wanting to go to heaven upon dissention
it’s no secret i’d love to sign to funk volume
and you won’t catch me dumb with a dead chick in a drunk ballroom
unless she drug me there or drugged me there
i said that “you got ‘lucky there’” – she thought that i said ‘ugly hair’
“are you gonna stay the night?
i know that the gag is tight
but every face that you make i like
so you won’t get away tonight”
game over, i’m so glad that you came over
but i don’t like you or your song and i didn’t stay sober
i’m so glad your youth-destroying morals brought fame closer
but for the good of mankind that going to end with a flame-thrower
listen to me fantasize, watch me bring this all to life
watch your minds as the lines become alive
and find their way into your cerebral cortex
without your imaginations i’m just who performs next
with you i’m just talking to myself and a few friends
page black and blue, bsb, and a bruised pen
“oh wow, he’s so innovative isn’t he?”
i’ll have a figurative world awaken physically
and shake you into wakefulness, put an end to this nonsense
these are not “talented” or “artists”, they are trending topics
please – k!ll them all, kicked off of the charts
at the “buzz they are building” and throw them off of the top
i was giving you the benefit of the doubt
but instead of pretending you have heart, i’m ripping it out
want nothing more than seeing you all die
out of the public eye, only “hit” is “getting” with an -ssault ri-
full of pride, trying to stay afloat in an ocean of fame
had no idea of the cost of them knowing your name
all of the freedom you were throwing away
as if god owes you a break, and if it’s nowhere to be found then you’re supposed to complain
i wrote a whole page, praying for every stuck
in that coma to wake, burning money would only be close to a change
i know my shows are only okay
because nothing is hidden and everything written is spoken on stage
if your favorite rapper choked – it probly showed on his face
and since his bars are only 3 words there’s no one to blame (but himself)
and listeners don’t listen to words unless they’re overplayed [repeats 2x]
so no one’s memory is where he’s going to stay
please take me somewhere, by that i mean “nowhere”
i hope that’s a place i can go to and disappear
where i can go and not exist
for an eternity apart from godlessness
nicki minaj is untalented gimmicky garbage
and yada yada and so on, i’m as busy an artist
as ever, but for right now i’m just a sinner in a h-ll-storm
once again, “consider yourself warned”

- john wesley rap

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