Mugen Styles - Fame [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
I just been doing what I got to do to make it/
Sitting here waiting for the dough/
Till my soul feels whole no mo/
Fame just seem like folklore/
Hold the door for my conscious/
More a hostage than a robber/
Posture, I don’t think it matter/
So I be slouching when my pockets get fatter/
If they get fatter/
Gather up my strength/
Gotta do what it takes/
I gotta keep going/
Steady blowing away the competition/
Every decision that I make/
Open up the way/
I just hope that I get there someday/
Open mic on a Sunday/
Need to let it out/
Fuck a runway/
To fly to land now/
Who or what am I?/
A sand castle/
Bout to wash away with the tide/
Biding my time till then/
Fortifications weren’t strong enough/
I let it all in/
I let it all get to me/
Fornicating in the midst of my misery/
Gotta admit, she’s damn pretty/
So I make sure she finishes/
That’s chivalry/

(classic mugen)

[Verse 2]
I just been doing what I gotta do to make it/
Grabbing anything that is up for the taking/
Fuck the hatred and the fake shit/
I’m making moves to improve my life/
If this was clue/
Then it’s mugen in the kitchen with the knife/
Cause I’m splitting that blunt/
Spitting for fun/
Getting shit done/
All day/
All week/
All month/
All year/
People like/
Got damn mugen/
You da realest one here/
Looking in the mirror/
Pupils dilated/
Eyes so red/
Boy bet I’m faded/
Faded glory/
Trynna get some cash/
Like I’m in the house with Cory/
Story of a kid living lavish/
At least wishing that he could/
But it’s been established/
That he’s more of an anne frank in the attic/
Would hide away with a pen and a page/
Couple notes where he’s written verses/
Sitting playing chicken with fame/
Like he’s eating in at a Church’s/
Steady working, running the biz/
Thinking that this is what a purpose is/

[Outro]
But if not/
What am I supposed to do/
Back down, give up/
Fuck that, come back better than before/
Settle the score, once and for all/
No plan to fall back on/
I’m all in, calling the shots/
Rap game, life long/
Till I’m writing death’s song/
As my body it rots/
Or sits burnt in a pot/

I’m just doing what I gotta do/