Fame Lyrics - The Keynote Speaker - U-god

You know it's all about fame 

You know it's all about fame 

I'm a winner in my book 

Made cuisine, in the kitchen, the fly cook 

In the air like a rim in a skyhook 

Deaf jock, my left hook 

This is easy work 

It's the mic mechanics 

See the greasy shirt 

This is easy perks 

Follow two steps dot on the chopper 

My bitch know GQ 

Manolo boots keep cursin' at the hustlers 

How you gonna get loo? 

You're cursing at the coarseness 

No sales, you better have my cash 

The feds don't grab me, I got lots of plans 

I need balls, the all star cash 

In the leadin roll, call it cruise control 

Every day is shakable, everything is payable 

No tings in my armor, I'm feeling unbreakable 

Swimming through the shark tank 

I'm top rank for the 

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For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

I'm an all, I draw ink 

Resemble war tank, the grass chopper 

Spilling up more drink 

What would I do, I think of ways to smash'em 

Eyes on me, I throw the anthem 

Raise that green lantern, in the green fathom, 

Joke of the town, don't he love handsome 

Your little league, you only made your dad 

To take over 

I'm passing European checks 

Brush you teeth 

I'm your early morning toothache 

Stop the ropes, this is how I... 

Cotton candy, hot sip and brandy 

Pass me my suitcase, these skinny fans fruitcake 

Listen to the gram when it's mixed with cram 

I'm dosing on my ramble 

You stoking on my time 

From the fowl line back to the huddle 

Right tracks on the bullet train 

To the shuttle 

Photos 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

Raised by wolves like the book back of Ario 

Did a lot of dirt but never would say sorry though 

Wild like the lamb boys down in El Barrio 

Crimp on the jokes, then you'd better do your cardio 

Run to 'em and run from 'em 

He's a killer so you can't take his gun from him 

He bad coat so his hands feel nothing from him 

He's a cold hearted bastard, better dumb dumb him 

Probably a 45, my job is making sure 

If they violate the big mandalo or shorty ride 

Out in there stretching in the ambulance 

We ain't left the ham gram 

But niggers moving grams on the hand to hand 

If I'm talking snow what's the avalanche? 

I ain't thinking of rap but catch me in a battle stamp 

Yeah it's the ghost motherfucker 

Guns rappers and blunts yeah smoke 

Motherfuckers 

Think Imma rope range 

The killer here red bone 

Put that on my hash stone 

You see the jem stone 

Call it in the end zone 

Headphones, Dr. Dre, your new sensation 

Yeah I got a lot to say 

You'd better speak 

So misunderstood 

Let her speak 

The new voice in the hood, never had to hide 

Always had the heart keep it simple and sharp 

And I land on the sharks for the 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame 

For the fame