F.a.m.e Letra

Thank god for my 9 millimetre
Thank god for me and my brethrens
Fuck the judge and the sentence
My enemies turn to victims
Ive got the lord as my witness
(X2)
So yeah yeah yeah
Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3)
Fuck off

That boy from the western won't hesitate to bang that western
I pop first if theres tension before i pop that question
We dont go to war like tekken
Semi automatic got me overdressing
Seven shots in a second reppin
Put him in a box
But im not meal preppin
Try play with the don yeah
You'll get done
Before the rap game i still make funds
You can't talk smoke
? at your mums
Go at all my streams i did it on my 1's
Play the wrong card and you'll get got
Send a word inside and you'll get chopped
How about old mate got flopped in the pod
Went clinic and never came back dog
See my shooters shoot out of love
No rats in the crew
Dust them under the rug
Yeah i make club bangers
But dont get it twisted
Cos i still let it bang in the club
See ive been through hell with my brothers
I back them all like they're my own blood
Yeah i make club bangers
But dont get it twisted
Cos i still let it bang in the club

They dont wanna end up dead
Playing this game
With real hard hitters
Talk form but never put in work
Still waiting for the day you bring your witness
No opposition dont phase me
Lets get down to the real talk
Break this down for a real cause
Credit where credits due
Make them songs but stick to the truth
If you're a rookie
You're a rookie
Got to work your way up them ranks
How do these kids get a pass
I dont even know who they are
Still got hitters in the car
And i still got hitters in the pod
Calling shots in the yard
All this talk on the net
Pull out when they see me pull up
They dont wanna go hard

Ive got too many hitters
Wanna fuck with my hitters
Tryna earn their stripes for their clicker
Thank god for my 9 millimetre
Thank god for me and my brethrens
Fuck the judge and the sentence
My enemies turn to victims
Ive got the lord as my witness
So yeah yeah yeah
Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3)
Fuck off

Wanna beef me
Then the beef dont stop
I dont bartend
But i send them shots
Dont talk about work
Dont talk about Glocks
Taskforce on me cos my iphone hot
Opps wanna put me in the box
Cops want me in the wing like fox
Most of my opps been touched
You know whos really letting that pop
Sick and tired of all these flops
No ones safe when the thing gets cocked
Talk about tools than we got that stock
Have to put me down if you want this dosh
They want smoke i send it send it
Shots get busy
And i leg it leg it
This beef can't debt debt it
Fuel to the fire i fed it fed it

If i go all the way
Then theres no remorse
With gang on myself bra
Still stand tall
Fuck the statistics
Check the ballistics
If you cunts really wanna talk about scores
Fuck that i dont wanna talk no more
Scream out gang
And then cry in court
Never be a day when i dont show form
And its fuck that side
Till im colding them all
Bra who wants smoke
We want smoke
When i hit that line
They press decline
Please lord strike me down
If i ever rap about a drill thats not mine
Fake cunts wanna talk about knocks
Lil dogs never done a knock in their life
Playing these cunts
Tryna fact check me
Lord knows that i say no lies
Can't say much but how many times did the shop get shut
When these little dogs wanna talk about us
And who showed form
When it come to the crunch
We know who
And they know who
But cops come around
I dont got no clue
We know who
And they know who but cops come around
I dont got no clue

So yeah yeah yeah
Fuck all my enemies yeah (x3)
Fuck off