Lyrics whutduzFMstand4? - PackFM

whutduzFMstand4?

So now I walk out the door
Leaving y’all begging for more
You’re like: «Ain't you gonna tell us what FM stands for?»
Nope — is that the only thing that you’re caring about?
Did you hear the words that were coming out of my mouth?
What if I told you that it didn’t really stand for nothing
So the past five or six years I were merely fronting
Would I still be off the radar like sonar
If I came out, said my rap name was Omar
And last name Tull
That’s what mom and dad gave me
You never ask, so you don’t give a damn what my name means
It wasn’t rap, it was catching tags that changed me
Now teachers are calling me Pack, like it was the same thing
Rhyming was a hobby 'til I finished my late teens
Then BAM I’m entertaining, damn it’s so draining
I hate complaining but I find it hard to do better
When I’m giving you my heart and all you ask about is two letters
I’m the definition of a dude better
Tell these interviewers talk is cheap
Here’s a 100 bucks for you to shut up
Should’ve knew better than to ask about the acronym
I never answer it, just buy the album and don’t ask again
Should I wear a fucking mask to cover my peach fuzz
Records every three months to keep up my street buzz
Dude was dope in his prime, were you checking where he was?
The rolls over your eyes, you just do what the sheep does
The scene sucks when the only way to soar in rap
Is to use one drum and spit over some boring tracks
Well I’m ignoring that, I fit into no image
My game is no game, my gimmick is no gimmick
My sky got no limit, I want it I go get it
I just wanna be nice so I put up my soul in it
Fate — I’m controllin' it
You can hear it in my flow
Even wrote a song about it, like to hear it?
Here it goes!
You can hold your breath 'til you’re blue in the face
Stop harassing me dog, cause I’ll never tell
Run up on the side of me
With no respect for privacy, relax
Cause I’ll never tell
Niggers never seem to cease the secrecy
I won’t reveal, so chill
Cause I’ll never tell
It’s a secret — don’t ask
It’s a secret — don’t ask
Fuck magazines, they only give five mics for money
I paid dues, you faggots don’t make, you fake moves
If you would use the five minutes that it takes to sign me
I could move a few mill, just put me where the fans can find me
I’m far more advanced than them punchlines you’re checking for
My verse could have a cancer cure (Where's the fucking metaphor?)
First minute you’re feeling me, next minute I’m hated
Getting fan mail now, so I guess I finally made it
But that won’t say who I am, that’s AM, I’m FM
I fiend for microphones like me and Rakim’s best friend
(So what does FM stand for?)
I don’t know, it’s hard to say
But none of y’all can fuck with the man my father made
These lines designed to part a way for me and mine
Thinkin' I ain’t here to stay, you must be out your freaking mind
This freestyle movement is brutal but it’s beautiful
So all y’all saying fuck me — the feeling’s mutual