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    Ah
    (Hit-Boy)

    Money over fame, a real boss'll make his bitch one too
    I did that twice 'cause everybody in my clique one too
    Now I'm headed to be the best, then the Presidents, we collect
    That's what they judge us off, but that's just the pressure of bein' next, huh
    They ask me how it feel, I guess niggas wanna know
    I chose money over fame, how I end up with 'em both?
    I'm just a dealer to the judge, and a sinner to the Pope
    At least could take two hundred grams out, dependin' on the dope
    I remember doin' stick ups for less than a hundred dollars
    Now we don't get dressed for less than a hundred thousand

    And I never think I'd make it out the hood
    And it don't feel how I thought it would

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    'Cause I don't feel famous (Famous, famous, famous)
    Ah, three Rollies, two cribs, six figures
    And I still don't feel famous (Famous)
    Yeah (Ah), the day I got my first brick, the only time a nigga really felt famous (Yo)

    What's fame to a nigga like me? You gotta think
    'Cause I'm from the cocaine era, we extinct
    I curve a bougie bitch, but I put a project bitch in a mink
    She love street niggas, so we gon' fuck the first day we link
    Huh, broken dreams on the street corner
    I stayed down so I'ma probably peak on 'em before it reach autumn
    Get in the booth, I recall it, then record it
    And with this kind of watch, it's hard to be normal
    You know this kind of shit come with the game
    Niggas call me just to check if my number the same, damn

    And I never thought I'd make it out the hood
    And it don't feel how I thought it should

    'Cause I don't feel famous (Famous, famous, famous)
    Three Rollies, two cribs, six figures
    And I still don't feel famous (Famous, famous, famous)
    Yeah, the day I got my first brick, the only time a nigga really felt famous (Famous, famous, famous)

    Yeah, buz
    I told you niggas wasn't fuckin' with you
    In the beginning of this shit, real shit
    All you bitch ass niggas who doubted us
    All you bitch ass niggas who hated
    All you stank ass bitches who shitted
    I can only imagine the look on y'all faces right now
    I can only imagine the feeling in y'all stomach right now
    But guess what, you deserve to be there
    For not embracin' real right niggas that's searchin' the truth
    Benny the best ever, New York, straight like that
    And BSF the movement, straight like that
    You know what I mean?
    Free, free Jackson and free Dat
    And free the gang too
    It's the Black Soprano Family
    Rest in peace DJ Shay and MachineGun Black
    Yeah, buddy

    Song details

    Composition: Hit-Boy & Benny The Butcher

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