P.O.T.F.

Tryna go dumb wit it
Tryna have fun wit it
Bouncer won't kick us out
Even though we dumb litty
Everybody who run wit me
Headed to the top
Gotta pay the price of fame
Better run yo pockets
I'mma run this shit regardless
Me and Pats bout to blow
Sold out shows at the Garden
Plate look just like a garden
Meanwhile they be starving
How I do it I be heartless
People wanna see my hand
I ain't about to play my cards yet
Aw here she go she bout to start shit
Don't I always do it
At the top am I shocked
Nah I love the view dude
And i'mma keep it going up
Ain't no coming down
Ain't no dumbing down
Who deserve the crown
I'm about to show you now

It's a shame how the game done changed
If you don't sound the same as these lames
You gettin' flamed boy, you gettin' flamed
Whatchu know about the price of the fame

Hey Carey, I'm blockin' out the haters
Weed so loud I'll probably wake up the neighbours
I'm all Jazzed up you can call me Derrick Favours
I'm all gassed up so no worries, thank me later
Thank Me Later like it's Drizzy from the grave
I probably rhyme better but I ain't that paid
Whatchu know about the price about the fame
I know I asked earlier but the question don't change
I stay the same while these other rappers change
It's Pats baby you gon' be learnin' my name
Well your girl says it lots, that's strange
You a lame and that's never gon' change
Keep the change you filthy Animal
These haters Rob Schneider, that's comedy, Hannibal
I'm writin' the manual, I suggest you buy a copy
The title of the book is I can't keep these bitches off me
I don't give a flying J if I'm cocky
I been doin' this for years, bitch get off me
You a softy, your last name's Charmin
See that fly on the wall? That's what your harming

It's a shame how the game done changed
If you don't sound the same as these lames
You gettin' flamed boy, you gettin' flamed
Whatchu know about the price of the fame

Back to your girl, ask her how my dick tastes
Anything less than great she lied to your face
You can't trust a hoe, it's 3 oh 3 in this bitch doe
519 that's my area code
You can't find it on a map like stealth mode
Snapchats of your girl touchin' elbows
Gotta keep it on the low like webbed toes
That's a sticky situation, no Velcro
It's pretty up in the air like crypto
So don't blame me bro, I gotta get mines
You gotta get yours, she gotta get her mouthful
Will she make it all fit? That's doubtful
If you strugglin' with chicks, this'll be helpful
Never a trust a damn hoe, keep your mouth closed
Keep your nose outta business you don't belong to
You can talk all you want but it ain't true
Every time I hear your name it's like I gotta puke
It's a shame cus you be thinkin' you're cute
But the real is on the rise and you can't deny the truth
That I'm what the game needs, I'm heroine in the booth

It's a shame how the game done changed
If you don't sound the same as these lames
You gettin' flamed boy, you gettin' flamed
Whatchu know about the price of the fame



Credits
Writer(s): Clint Patrick, Shana Loach
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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