Famous (feat. Kanye West & Rihanna)

Rick Ross

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    Man I can understand how it might be
    Kinda hard to love a girl like me
    I don’t blame you much for wanting to be free
    I just wanted you to know
    Swizz told me let the beat rock

    For all my Southside n*ggas that know me best
    I feel like me and Taylor might still have s*x
    Why? I made that b*tch famous (God damn)
    I made that b*tch famous
    For all the girls that got d*ck from Kanye West
    If you see ’em in the streets give ’em Kanye’s best
    Why? They mad they ain’t famous (God damn)
    They mad they’re still nameless (Talk that talk, man)
    Her man in the store tryna try his best
    But he just can’t seem to get Kanye fresh
    But we still hood famous (God damn)
    Yeah we still hood famous

    I just wanted you to know
    I loved you b*tter than your own kin did
    From the very start
    I don’t blame you much for wanting to be free
    I just wanted you to know

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    The furnace, fires, fortunes, and the fumes
    The aura arrogance is been known to fill the room
    Boom, little n*gga who are you?
    Roc-A-Fella Records on record to kill a crew
    Vegas in my palms a don like
    Only one with beat taste from Kanye on my momma stew
    For the ye I’ve been known to be Karmaloop
    Malcom X in his head say my name and here come to troops
    Hands out my pocket I c*ck it and let it loose
    And Dame was spilling on a n*gga boots
    Martin Luther King’s real estate was a dream
    Farrakhan’s farm was one that I once seen
    The final call dogs stay on your dean
    Fragrances stay on my queen
    Mind your business the killers can intervene
    I’m half na*ed in the GQ magazine
    Tours looking like its wrestlemania
    I’m The Rock setting fires to the stadium
    Burn it down then I’m off to anther beat
    Might get engages to a freak just for a couple weeks
    Something I can’t afford
    If you not a playboy that’s something I can’t endorse
    Win, lose, or draw William living like he Biggie Smalls
    Balling its tax season I was born to be a boss
    See that your face froze
    Bobby Brown lockjaw, Whitney Houston in the ghost
    Coogie and Cartier causalities of the fame
    Your b*tch MCM she even tagging my name

    Bam bam, bam bam
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    ‘ey what a bam bam
    How you feeling right now? Let me see your lighters in the air
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    Bam bam eh
    Bam bam, bam bam
    Let me see your middle finger in the air
    Bam bam, bam bam
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    Let me see you act up in this motherf*cker
    Ey what a bam bam
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    How you feelin’, how you feelin, how you feelin’ in this mother f*cker, god damn
    Bam bam
    One thing you can’t do is stop us now
    Bam bam, bam bam
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    You can’t stop the thing now
    Ey what a bam bam
    Man it’s way too late, it’s way too late, it’s way too late you can’t f*ck with us
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    Bam bam, bam bam
    Bam bam, bam bam
    To the left, to the right
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam
    I wanna see everybody hands in the air like this
    ‘ey what a bam bam
    Bam bam, bam bam
    Bam bam dilla, bam bam

    I just wanted you to know
    I loved you b*tter than your own kin did
    From the very start
    I don’t blame you much for wanting to be free
    I just wanted you to know

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