fuck fame pt. 2 - skylar blatt lyrics
[intro: skylar blatt]
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
swear, swear, uh, uh, uh, uh
uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, yeah, yeah (mk)
[chorus: skylar blatt]
these b*tches get nasty for a lil’ bit of change, but i can’t blame ’em, they maintain
i get the backend to ease my pain, dolce clothes beneath my chain
i hope you choosy recruitin’ the shooters ’cause we been told that he can’t aim
i heard the mexicans askin’ them questions, i’m like, “shh, we can’t name”
why you put eighty on a watch? f*ck fame, i like how that rollie fit on my vein
thesе n*ggas hatin’ ’til i upgrade, new lambo, sh*t on y’all lames
oh, you been savin’ a thot, okay, i’m keepin’ thеse hoes from out my face
i just been savin’ the guap, okay, ’cause savin’ these hoes is not my place
[post*chorus: skylar blatt]
i’m on a bag mission, uh, uh
walk in this b*tch with a milli’, i’m feelin’ like jackpot
i’m in the kitchen with scripts, it was me and no soda, he was whippin’ that crack pot
why you lil’ n*ggas on the bottom? i’m nba ballin’, i don’t need no mascot
matter fact, take my trash out
[verse 1: skylar blatt]
ayy, ho got ass shots
trackhawk disappoint you, i got points, like, ask the last cop
h*lla wasn’t in that joint tryna prove no points, he was loadin’ up cash app
meanwhile, y’all goin’ broke, these n*ggas is jokes, these n*ggas been assed out
i ain’t gotta mention my stash house
uh, i took a major loss
i was just playin’ my role, you know how it go, hmm, i played the boss
diamonds like tic*tac*toe, i can mismatch clothes, hmm, i paid the cost
they like to stalk when i’m at the vault ’cause they wanna know how i saved it all
f*ck it, you know i get paid to talk
[chorus: skylar blatt & lola brooke]
these b*tches get nasty for a lil’ bit of change, but i can’t blame ’em, they maintain
i get the backend to ease my pain, dolce clothes beneath my chain
i hope you choosy recruitin’ the shooters ’cause we been told that he can’t aim
i heard the mexicans askin’ them questions, i’m like, “shh, we can’t name”
why you put eighty on a watch? f*ck fame, i like how that rollie fit on my vein
these n*ggas hatin’ ’til i upgrade, new lambo, sh*t on y’all lames
oh, you been savin’ a thot, okay, i’m keepin’ these hoes from out my face (uh*huh)
i just been savin’ the guap, okay (uh*huh), ’cause savin’ these hoes is not my place (brrr)
[verse 2: lola brooke]
set the tone, pay the cost, they wanna know how gator talk (uh, uh, uh, uh)
too grown for the baby talk, rough b*tch with a lady walk (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
celebratin’ when i pop the ace, you know i ain’t got time today
and that’s your problem, bae
i’m in your mouth when you conversate
they wanna hear they name drop on my album date (uh)
don’t be oopid, money stupid
spend racks, that’s just how i do it, that’s just how i move it
then again, they wanna learn how i use it
get down, grrah, stop the music
ain’t givin’ no wap for a diamond plate
nuh*uh, that’s not how i got fame
broke b*tch, that’s not how i ovulate
papa, i need my ‘nani ate
huh, they say they allstar ’til a star came around (star came around)
got a billboard on my wall, you need sparks to take it down (sparks to take it down)
just woke up to a crazy text
for a check, i be comin’, i’m too busy for s*x
bust down on the wrist and the chain is next
sky, you know we get paid to flex (rrr)
[chorus: skylar blatt]
these b*tches get nasty for a lil’ bit of change, but i can’t blame ’em, they maintain
i get the backend to ease my pain, dolce clothes beneath my chain
i hope you choosy recruitin’ the shooters ’cause we been told that he can’t aim
i heard the mexicans askin’ them questions, i’m like, “shh, we can’t name”
why you put eighty on a watch? f*ck fame, i like how that rollie fit on my vein
these n*ggas hatin’ ’til i upgrade, new lambo, sh*t on y’all lames
oh, you been savin’ a thot, okay, i’m keepin’ these hoes from out my face
i just been savin’ the guap, okay, ’cause savin’ these hoes is not my place
[post*chorus: skylar blatt]
i’m on a bag mission, uh, uh
walk in this b*tch with a milli, i’m feelin’ like jackpot
i’m in the kitchen with scripts, it was me and no soda, he was whippin’ that crack pot
why you lil’ n*ggas on the bottom, i’m nba ballin’, i don’t need no mascot
matter fact, take my trash out
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