I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Everybody keeps on calling my name
Through all of this fame
But I can't figure out why
I'm the ball and chain
You mother f*ckers combing your brain
Like I'm insane
But I'm just saying the shit
You hesitating to think
And I don't even know why I make the change
Cause I'm living every lie
You mother f*ckers try to place me in
Through your image
I'm gifted but I've got to motive to it
Ruining every instrumental I end up using
Produced by the sickest influenced skill
Inducing creative abilities
That you probably agree deserve more of the fame
Cause we just write the lyrics that sit on the page
Admit when we're famous
Cause every mother f*ckers hanging off our nuts
Trying to get played
It's a waste of radio station air waves
And it case you're wondering
I'm one of the mother f*ckers still undiscovered
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
It's you
It's every person with their iPod in their coat
Knowing that nobody else knows what I wrote
So they can hold it closely and never let go
To cop with their anger; steady humming the notes
To the beat in their ear piece singing alone
Cause you know your embarrassed to carry it on
It's like I'm the spirit your hearing that nobody knows
It's there, they just stare into the world and gloat
Until it wears into their skin and wear it
Like their wearing an extra thin
Layer of protection under their vest and weapon
Ready wreck any record they set in
With their deep list of meaningful shit
Let them peep it
Cause when they see its not about the penis
Or how gangster you're leaning
They might actually think its a reason
To reach out into the crowd of CD's
And find the truth of their meaning
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
It's All About Fame Video (MV)
Exalted Industries - It's All About Fame Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Everybody keeps on calling my name
Through all of this fame
But I can't figure out why
I'm the ball and chain
You mother f*ckers combing your brain
Like I'm insane
But I'm just saying the shit
You hesitating to think
And I don't even know why I make the change
Cause I'm living every lie
You mother f*ckers try to place me in
Through your image
I'm gifted but I've got to motive to it
Ruining every instrumental I end up using
Produced by the sickest influenced skill
Inducing creative abilities
That you probably agree deserve more of the fame
Cause we just write the lyrics that sit on the page
Admit when we're famous
Cause every mother f*ckers hanging off our nuts
Trying to get played
It's a waste of radio station air waves
And it case you're wondering
I'm one of the mother f*ckers still undiscovered
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
It's you
It's every person with their iPod in their coat
Knowing that nobody else knows what I wrote
So they can hold it closely and never let go
To cop with their anger; steady humming the notes
To the beat in their ear piece singing alone
Cause you know your embarrassed to carry it on
It's like I'm the spirit your hearing that nobody knows
It's there, they just stare into the world and gloat
Until it wears into their skin and wear it
Like their wearing an extra thin
Layer of protection under their vest and weapon
Ready wreck any record they set in
With their deep list of meaningful shit
Let them peep it
Cause when they see its not about the penis
Or how gangster you're leaning
They might actually think its a reason
To reach out into the crowd of CD's
And find the truth of their meaning
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Everybody keeps on calling my name
Through all of this fame
But I can't figure out why
I'm the ball and chain
You mother f*ckers combing your brain
Like I'm insane
But I'm just saying the shit
You hesitating to think
And I don't even know why I make the change
Cause I'm living every lie
You mother f*ckers try to place me in
Through your image
I'm gifted but I've got to motive to it
Ruining every instrumental I end up using
Produced by the sickest influenced skill
Inducing creative abilities
That you probably agree deserve more of the fame
Cause we just write the lyrics that sit on the page
Admit when we're famous
Cause every mother f*ckers hanging off our nuts
Trying to get played
It's a waste of radio station air waves
And it case you're wondering
I'm one of the mother f*ckers still undiscovered
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
It's you
It's every person with their iPod in their coat
Knowing that nobody else knows what I wrote
So they can hold it closely and never let go
To cop with their anger; steady humming the notes
To the beat in their ear piece singing alone
Cause you know your embarrassed to carry it on
It's like I'm the spirit your hearing that nobody knows
It's there, they just stare into the world and gloat
Until it wears into their skin and wear it
Like their wearing an extra thin
Layer of protection under their vest and weapon
Ready wreck any record they set in
With their deep list of meaningful shit
Let them peep it
Cause when they see its not about the penis
Or how gangster you're leaning
They might actually think its a reason
To reach out into the crowd of CD's
And find the truth of their meaning
I don't know why they just say
That I'm the one who complains
Because the music they make
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Sometimes I wish that I tried
To change every verse of their rhymes
And then I realize
Everybody knows it's all about fame
Writer: MARK THOMAS NATALE
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave
Copyright: Lyrics © Songtrust Ave