Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dame Fame, artist - Philthy Rich. Date of issue: 10.12.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dame Fame |
| It’s Philthy |
| This shit be crazy how these niggas smile in your face |
| Act like they fuck with you, but they really don’t |
| It’s Philthy |
| Whoa, too much, nigga too much, nigga too much (think we forgot nigga?) |
| Whoa whoa whoa whoa, lean by the truckload (I know your secrets pussy) |
| These niggas yellin' murder, murder, all you smell is gunsmoke (you made me |
| expose you bitch) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no |
| I came up, I came up, man I came up (Seminary, Funk or Die nigga) |
| Whoa, whoa, whoa why they prayin' for my downfall? |
| (uh-huh) |
| Too much money rollin' in, I done lost count (it's Philthy nigga) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no (look, look) |
| If Jody Bo was alive bitch (ayy rest in peace) |
| Know that nigga wouldn’t fuck with you (you know he wouldn’t) |
| Told on a couple Richmond niggas (is that right?) |
| Now the hood don’t fuck with you (uh-uh) |
| In the hood selling cocaine (Seminary) |
| I was never blinded by the fame (never) |
| Had the shit before I had a name (it's Philthy ho) |
| I ain’t never offered you his chain (fuck outta here) |
| You done woke up a sleeping giant (you did) |
| Asked me to keep your secret quiet (you did) |
| You ain’t never in the hood though (never) |
| You be passing through or you sneaking by (pussy) |
| Real FOD ENT (FOD) |
| We don’t gangbang, no ENT (uh-uh) |
| Seminary and Foothill (Seminary) |
| Right in front of Als, tryna move a key (thirty-six) |
| The crazy part, I used to fuck with you (I used to) |
| You came home on some bitter shit (bitter bitch) |
| You called my phone when I was in Atlanta |
| Out your own mouth, you told me that you snitched (I swear to God) |
| You took the stand, nigga you' a ho (nigga you a ho) |
| That ain’t what Funk Or Die stand for (uh-uh) |
| Thought I was tryna take years from you |
| Should’ve let the whole Acorn know (I should’ve nigga) |
| It’s Philthy nigga |
| Whoa, too much, nigga too much, nigga too much (this nigga must be on dope) |
| Whoa whoa whoa whoa, lean by the truckload (fuckin' with the wrong one) |
| These niggas yellin' murder, murder, all you smell is gunsmoke (huh?) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no (it's Philthy nigga, Funk or Die) |
| I came up, I came up, man I came up (I did nigga) |
| Whoa, whoa, whoa why they prayin' for my downfall? |
| (I know you mad pussy) |
| Too much money rollin' in, I done lost count (hatin' don’t do shit nigga) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no (look, look) |
| My biggest hater since the first day (he is) |
| I shake something like an earthquake (I will) |
| He was in his feelings when he came home (oh I remember) |
| Then he found out that he fuckin' Mae (broke nigga) |
| But no disrespect to her though (uh-uh) |
| Me and her, it’s all love though (it's all love) |
| This pussy nigga keep runnin' his mouth (pussy) |
| I’ma fill it up with a slug though (it's Philthy) |
| Stop telling niggas you don’t fuck with me (ayy do that) |
| Tell them niggas why you don’t fuck with me (ayy tell 'em why) |
| Mad Mone and Mae stuck with me (you mad pussy) |
| 'Cause real niggas they fuck with me (salute) |
| You forfeited all that gangster shit (you did) |
| When you took the stand, you lesser than a man (pussy) |
| In the kitchen bustin' down the grams (skrrt skrrt) |
| Mom’s mad I’m fuckin' up her pans (she is) |
| Who you think you really fuckin' with? |
| (huh?) |
| My money right, we can go to war (SemCity MoneyMan) |
| We can’t funk while you broke Stacey (uh-uh) |
| In the streets we can hold court (Funk or Die) |
| What you gon' say? |
| I’m gettin' extorted? |
| Ain’t from the hood? |
| bitch I heard it all (I done heard it all) |
| When you came home, want me to put you on (you did) |
| But snitch niggas ain’t meant to ball (uh-uh), this Philthy nigga |
| Whoa, too much, nigga too much, nigga too much (ayy I told that nigga keep my |
| name out his mouth) |
| Whoa whoa whoa whoa, lean by the truckload (ayy Fab, didn’t I tell him? |
| ayy Stone, you remember) |
| These niggas yellin' murder, murder, all you smell is gunsmoke (but he ain’t |
| listen though) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no (fuck him we ball, it’s Philthy) |
| I came up, I came up, man I came up (Funk or Die, we don’t do no tellin') |
| Whoa, whoa, whoa why they prayin' for my downfall? |
| (uh-uh lil Stacey, |
| we don’t represent the same thing nigga) |
| Too much money rollin' in, I done lost count (I come from the struggle bitch, |
| play with me nigga) |
| I don’t know who to trust, no (it's Philthy ho, huh?) |