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