i don't wanna be famous

and get my picture in the paper

with the headlines read

i think this is the god who made you

with all them bitches and bastards

with the big mouth for backstabbing

critics dis not to miss all the dirt to be grabbing

the effects of the scandoulsness of my entire reality

to be dripping in the of a self inflicted me

i'll be singing with a broken heart

is gonna help me top the chart

which brings to the point

that happened just back at the start

i don't wanna be famous

and blow my horn like miles davis

suck here on my dick

and then tell me im the greatest

all them bastards and bitches

get me starring in the pictures

im gonna be fucking huge

now tell me who the fuck is jesus

to be number one under the sun

i'll need a gun to knock you out

and just to get it right

i'll need the best agent around

get me in the magazines in my nudity

with a little cutie girl

whos famous just like me

i don't wanna be famous

and be adored by loving strangers

make my music shit

but just make sure it's contagious

masterplans to think instead

the song should stick right in your head

radio rotation

play it over till it's dead

driving fancy cars to fancy bars

to make a point im on it

and in the intermission do some chicken on your bonnet

my egos gonna grow till you can find me floating

in the sky in the fire in the light i'll be stokin