George Samaha - Make me Famous [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

Verse 1:

I spit rhymes, to fright
Pick up my pen and I write
My pride depends on the hours
In which I spend by my mic

Rapping, in spite
I tend to hurt as long as I write
I might be trending
Cause I slur your words and spit like im white

I might be hyped cause im lurching
And smelling worse than Van Dyke
The type of guy, to bring the inner side
Of bonnie and clyde

Get off tonight with rum and ice
Get lost like Romney and sigh
To find yourself, inside
The bed of a pink Porsche of a black buy

And a life? I don’t have one
I just rather drop hits
And my mic? I won’t quit
Until it floods up in spit

But I might, one day just lose it
And revert to this nuisance
To all the faggots talking dirt
And don’t know shit about music

Don’t try to spit like your fluent
Your fairy kit you see through it
Your dicks are bluing
Asphyxiate the shit out of illusion

With every thump, drop a line
With the bass, to be slit
And leave a scar with every rhyme
On the land of your wits

Chorus:
Just make me famous
Im tired of stealing my paps beer
Make me famous
Inspire instead of being inspired

Make me famous
Im tired of seeing my mom’s tears
Here’s to my Suspenders
And door men in ten years

Make me famous
Im tired of walking around nameless
Make me famous
The sour taste of being a stranger

Make me famous
Unknown and I hate it
Stoned polyphonic prose
On your radio, it goes

Just make me famous

Verse 2:

When I decide rap
Its best to stitch my lips shut
I sip the blood of a sinner
And spit it out of my guts

Pick up, the rhymes knots
To hit like a whip it
And with explicit, signs swapped
To have it stick when it drops

Slurped cough with the medicine
Knocked off my bed again
The vodka’s filtering
Off topic, off of gin

Now oxygen lackin, im off guard
And barf again, what happened
Walls notched, and cops on
My ass again

When rapping’s, all I got
Heart’s my only passion
Ill rap, what I got
Till im boxed up in ashes

Its so fatuous
To fisticuff with these rappers
Ravenous to be the best
Don’t spit to cuss at the baddest
(why)

My back’s strapped with Arabic-
Bad habits, im arrogant
That’s not gonna stop me
From BLOWING half you Americans

Punks, diss spilling
Heat loathing, admit
A sheep, in wolves clothing
With the name of a bitch

Chorus