Lloyd Banks - Celebrity Lyrics
[Lloyd Banks]
I just touched down, Ferrari to concrete
I ain’t even home and they’re talking about me
f-ck out my ear if you talking ’bout freedom n-gger
Free don’t pay the bills Im ballin’ all out, b!
You rappers don’t know me
Nah I ain’t your homie
If your name aint Em, Ferrari or Tony
I like my wheel chromey
My Bentley my Rolly
My Magnum my forty
South Jamaica shawty
these losses I took in the gut yo
the work’s still here, I’m just cooking it up slow
Clear my mind, you whippin’ the truck load
my Pop dead, but he live through his son though
if rap aint work, I’ll be pimpin’ on some hoe
Still eating lobster and shrimp in the Bungalow
I’m back like crack over the drumroll
You know, wherever I go the gun go
[Akon - Chorus]
We on the grind (hey) all the time (hey)
ain’t bout to let a n-gga come and snatch mine
I keep a nine, you see the shine
I might just let your ass slide this time
While I get this paper, paper
While I get this paper, paper
Cause I’m a celebrity
(I don’t need none of y’all)
Ghetto celebrity
(Keep your punk-ass awards)
I’m a celebrity
(Take your fake smile off)
Ghetto celebrity
aint nothing changed n-gger
[Lloyd Banks - Verse 2]
The media will test ya, popularity is pressure
Porche Panamera
platinum hammer through the metal
wreck the booth up, I’m too tough
that inner city grammer
step your jewels up, they bruised up
I’ll sparkle for the camera
harsh reality’s what (?) holding them back from opening
verbal attack all over these n-ggas, push the herd to the back
I’m the kind that they pray on, spending half of their day on
lay on, n-ggas for days, just shots spray on
my sound system knock and in pound Tupac
6-4 jumping like the ground too hot
they spot me, they chase a n-gga down two blocks
two shots in the air for n-ggas that aint here
two tone, two door, grey top, roof floor
green guap galore, in and out of new hall
that bright light you saw, was a paparazzi flash
I’m tryna snap a picture through your Maserati glass
[Chorus]
[Eminem]
…there are enough insults in my head
to fill up a swear jar
and have it overflowing so dont get me going, don’t dare start
you’ll never see me again, Amelia Earhart
I’m poppin’ a wheelie off to a really unfair start
I’m past grinding for me, guess I just be grounded up
like ground round or a pound of chuck
tightly wound as f-ck
till the fire marshalls come shut
Fire marshall ground ‘em up
I guess you should just shut the f-ck up
and stop f-cking around and duck
I aint playing this time, I told you I’m not down for blunts
to say I keep it 100 would probably sound redundant
like calling a bitch a hoe, or asking a gal to suck
and blowing your d-ck cock
is she up to scew and down to f-ck
it’s a man’s World and I’m trapped in a land of smut
with a thousand sluts wrapped with muzzles
running through a house of muts
otherwords I’m shutting up everyone one of you bitches mouth’s up
and I’m watching my language if I tell you to kiss my f-cking butt
and aint sh-t changed, my sh-t still dont stink player
my farts may have become staler ever since I became a trailer park celebrity
maybe my complexion became a little paler
poster job for white trash, I’m a garbage pale kid sailor
yeah, see me up all in your b-tch means I’ma rape her,
all I got for these hoes is d-ck duck tape and a stapler so b-tch you better look for table scraps to scrape her
I don’t subscribe to the news or the free press but homie I get the paper!
[Lloyd Banks]
I just touched down, Ferrari to concrete
I ain’t even home and they’re talking about me
f-ck out my ear if you talking ’bout freedom n-gger
Free don’t pay the bills Im ballin’ all out, b!
You rappers don’t know me
Nah I ain’t your homie
If your name aint Em, Ferrari or Tony
I like my wheel chromey
My Bentley my Rolly
My Magnum my forty
South Jamaica shawty
these losses I took in the gut yo
the work’s still here, I’m just cooking it up slow
Clear my mind, you whippin’ the truck load
my Pop dead, but he live through his son though
if rap aint work, I’ll be pimpin’ on some hoe
Still eating lobster and shrimp in the Bungalow
I’m back like crack over the drumroll
You know, wherever I go the gun go
[Akon - Chorus]
We on the grind (hey) all the time (hey)
ain’t bout to let a n-gga come and snatch mine
I keep a nine, you see the shine
I might just let your ass slide this time
While I get this paper, paper
While I get this paper, paper
Cause I’m a celebrity
(I don’t need none of y’all)
Ghetto celebrity
(Keep your punk-ass awards)
I’m a celebrity
(Take your fake smile off)
Ghetto celebrity
aint nothing changed n-gger
[Lloyd Banks - Verse 2]
The media will test ya, popularity is pressure
Porche Panamera
platinum hammer through the metal
wreck the booth up, I’m too tough
that inner city grammer
step your jewels up, they bruised up
I’ll sparkle for the camera
harsh reality’s what (?) holding them back from opening
verbal attack all over these n-ggas, push the herd to the back
I’m the kind that they pray on, spending half of their day on
lay on, n-ggas for days, just shots spray on
my sound system knock and in pound Tupac
6-4 jumping like the ground too hot
they spot me, they chase a n-gga down two blocks
two shots in the air for n-ggas that aint here
two tone, two door, grey top, roof floor
green guap galore, in and out of new hall
that bright light you saw, was a paparazzi flash
I’m tryna snap a picture through your Maserati glass
[Chorus]
[Eminem]
…there are enough insults in my head
to fill up a swear jar
and have it overflowing so dont get me going, don’t dare start
you’ll never see me again, Amelia Earhart
I’m poppin’ a wheelie off to a really unfair start
I’m past grinding for me, guess I just be grounded up
like ground round or a pound of chuck
tightly wound as f-ck
till the fire marshalls come shut
Fire marshall ground ‘em up
I guess you should just shut the f-ck up
and stop f-cking around and duck
I aint playing this time, I told you I’m not down for blunts
to say I keep it 100 would probably sound redundant
like calling a bitch a hoe, or asking a gal to suck
and blowing your d-ck cock
is she up to scew and down to f-ck
it’s a man’s World and I’m trapped in a land of smut
with a thousand sluts wrapped with muzzles
running through a house of muts
otherwords I’m shutting up everyone one of you bitches mouth’s up
and I’m watching my language if I tell you to kiss my f-cking butt
and aint sh-t changed, my sh-t still dont stink player
my farts may have become staler ever since I became a trailer park celebrity
maybe my complexion became a little paler
poster job for white trash, I’m a garbage pale kid sailor
yeah, see me up all in your b-tch means I’ma rape her,
all I got for these hoes is d-ck duck tape and a stapler so b-tch you better look for table scraps to scrape her
I don’t subscribe to the news or the free press but homie I get the paper!
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