L.T.B. - Famous lyrics

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 hell I just want to rip apart satan And smack a bunch of parents who have kids that they aren't raising Raise hell 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 fictitious 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 gay rights After the parade we'll form a straight line (haha) And march into the ma** 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**ing 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 – KILL 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 a**ault 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 hell-storm Once again, “Consider Yourself Warned”