Lyrics Front Page - Hittman

Front Page

Frontpage Stardom, I’m the golden child
(That means we takin over this year)
Can’t fuck wit my bold crew
Frontpage Stardom, I’m the golden child
(That means we takin over this year)
Can’t fuck wit my bold crew
Frontpage Stardom, I’m the golden child
(That means we takin over this year)
Can’t fuck wit my bold crew
Frontpage Stardom, I’m the golden child
(Where the hell ya been homie?) Chillin`
(Do you think you`ll go platinum?) Man listen
(Everybody's talkin)
Some are dissin` so I keep all your ass at fire arm distance
(What are your goals?) 8 figures
(What is your role?) straight nigga
(What about your flow?)
Ha you wondering you gott to spend with me in the summer you’ll see
Extra Extra!
Read all about him!
Hitt signed to Aftermath
Now the B-Boys doubt him, females crowd him, decoys
Clone him, females want him, everybody on him, but he don’t
Care bout it man when he be zonin`, I remember when
The boy used to be a loner, waitin for the bus to come, posted
On the corner, of Crenshaw & Country Club he
Had no pub, now his car gitt`s valet parked, and he’s the talk of the club
Groupies in Gucci, Tuedays at Sky Sushi, high class mommas
At Las Palmas he gitt honored, came a long way from wearing Puma`s and Bombers
In line to see Krush Groove at the Baldwin Theater, now with
Rhymes he touch you, the small niggas hate him, ya'll couldent fade
Him with bleach on your clippers, now on the radio, he played
Bout as frequent Jigga, see the picture?
Allow me to introduce myself, I’m sick of fools
Speakin for me like I need help, you usually don’t
See me cuz I be stealth, and you should buy
My cd cuz I need wealth, you ever see me
Runnin its never for health, only for prez, the ones
That`s dead, mainly the one with the least hair on
His head, like white color crime, man i gotta stay
Fed, now if I couldn’t rhyme I`d probably be pre-med, spending
Most of my time tryna to stop A.I.D.S.
spread, but thats
Not my calling mines is ballin instead, slangin` rap like
Its crack to you damn baseheads, why do you think they
Call me Hitt?
Sign a contract then that`s what I supply you with
Whether combat a bomb track, or your chick, crime
Scene or magazine I’m all over it
I stay higher than racial tension, with a facial expression
Tensed up like I’m suffering from a case of nasal congestion
Eyes hazel, complexion beige, age still in question
Critics hate my tape kids can’t wait for the next one
As long as there’s rejects, my tape never e-jects the deck
That’s the level of re-spect each cd gets
While y’all are grasping at straws like me snortin' crushed aspirin
And gaspin' at air ‘n collapsin' in malls
I’m just a realistic impression of artistic expression
Who’s tape was in the deck when the kids shot up delicatessen
So when I — launch a verse full of contra-verse
That’ll haunt you worse than Ma$e before he joined the church
Ok kids I dismiss this class I’m going back in the broom closet to sniff this
gas
Umm, Mr. Mathers just missed the bathroom
Pissed his pants and the world still kissed his ass
This is my last album, this is my last Valium
Just pick my ass up when I pass out in the bathroom
If y’all don’t like this shit that you hearing then blow me ‘til your lipstick
is smearin'
And I can see my dick disappearin'