I Don't Wanna Be Famous
I don't wanna be famous
I don't wanna be famous
I don't wanna be famous
I don't think I could live like a king
Having all the money to buy everything
All the cars, all the smoke
All the diamonds, all the bling
A cellphone with wifi and all it does is ring
I'd have a coke problem before I hit Paris
For Fashion Week on my day off like Ferris
I'd smoke 'til both of my lungs go airless
And I'd crash a car every week
Driving so careless
My rings would shine with diamonds and carrots
I'd hire security to weasel out the ferrets
My house would come with five cooks in hairnets
And every ride I'd own
Would come straight outta Barrett's
I wanna see every city and travel 'round the globe
But I'd probably lose my mind
The minute that I'm known because,
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
Fame, Fame, Fame, Fame
Fame, Fame, Fame, Fame
I wanna get high in the whip
And drive right by a cop
Who don't even know me
And puts me under lock
I make one hit song but nothing else pops
Now the label mad I didn't make
What the album cost (Oh well)
I might just wanna fuck shit up on the block
Make a hard trap record
About pussy and knots
Get bitches in the video actually sucking my cock
As the camera man flinches
Whenever I wave the glock
I'd feel like Gucci Mane when he really felt lost
I would drown all my sorrows in a blunt and the sauce
But I'd still have shows to do and bottles to pop
There'd be arenas to rock and cars to cop
I wanna blame my producer
When I have writers block
Tell him get back to the boards
And here is some chalk
I payed all the bills but ignored all the costs
I just wanna be the boss but I don't wanna be famous
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't want an accountant to steal my tax money
I don't want friends who friendly
Because my rap's money
I don't want pussy if it act funny
With big fake tits and a flat tummy
I don't wanna piss off fans with my tardiness
I don't wanna still be high when the party ends
I don't wanna buy my bitch the right Cardigans
My publicist watching my Tweets
To appease the white audience
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
I don't wanna be famous
I don't think I could live like a king
Having all the money to buy everything
All the cars, all the smoke
All the diamonds, all the bling
A cellphone with wifi and all it does is ring
I'd have a coke problem before I hit Paris
For Fashion Week on my day off like Ferris
I'd smoke 'til both of my lungs go airless
And I'd crash a car every week
Driving so careless
My rings would shine with diamonds and carrots
I'd hire security to weasel out the ferrets
My house would come with five cooks in hairnets
And every ride I'd own
Would come straight outta Barrett's
I wanna see every city and travel 'round the globe
But I'd probably lose my mind
The minute that I'm known because,
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
Fame, Fame, Fame, Fame
Fame, Fame, Fame, Fame
I wanna get high in the whip
And drive right by a cop
Who don't even know me
And puts me under lock
I make one hit song but nothing else pops
Now the label mad I didn't make
What the album cost (Oh well)
I might just wanna fuck shit up on the block
Make a hard trap record
About pussy and knots
Get bitches in the video actually sucking my cock
As the camera man flinches
Whenever I wave the glock
I'd feel like Gucci Mane when he really felt lost
I would drown all my sorrows in a blunt and the sauce
But I'd still have shows to do and bottles to pop
There'd be arenas to rock and cars to cop
I wanna blame my producer
When I have writers block
Tell him get back to the boards
And here is some chalk
I payed all the bills but ignored all the costs
I just wanna be the boss but I don't wanna be famous
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't want an accountant to steal my tax money
I don't want friends who friendly
Because my rap's money
I don't want pussy if it act funny
With big fake tits and a flat tummy
I don't wanna piss off fans with my tardiness
I don't wanna still be high when the party ends
I don't wanna buy my bitch the right Cardigans
My publicist watching my Tweets
To appease the white audience
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, cars, clothes
I don't wanna be famous
Fame, money, stars, shows
Credits
Writer(s): Tyler Tracey
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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