Los Atara - BEFORE THE FAME

No more fake hoes
No more problems
If the money come, I'ma keep it to myself
To myself

No more fake hoes
No more problems
If the money comes, I'ma keep it to myself
To myself

And my mama and my sister, that's it
I don't owe none of y'all shit
We was starving just to pay for chicken
Thank God I ain't had to pay rent

I took care of mama crib when she was goin through some shit
I learned a lot about men
And how to be a man, huh
No Role Models
I had to put on Jermaine, huh
1985, Saint-Tropez

He gon' hit up Hollywood soon
Nobody believe him when the wolf's in the room
They gon' say congratulations
After all the obligations

I was writing poems in my bedroom at ten
All I wanted was a friend
But everybody had a robe and a gavel
I was watching Judge Judy, Dr. Phil with my gram

We would talk about the stupid shit that people did
I said, "I can never become them"
And I notice how it always involve materials and the women
What does it cost to purchase a best friend?
I got low about my physical appearance
Well, fuck it, I'ma still be him

If I'm not good enough for you, then it's your loss, momma
I wanna be a father, you just wanna be a model
I wanna be a husband to an angel
You just wanna be a whore to a couple dollars
Couple hundred dollars, couple thousand dollars
Hundred thousand dollars
A million dollars
But
Money always disappears
I guess
They did you wrong when you were just a kid?

No more fake hoes
No more problems
If the money come, I'ma keep it to myself
To myself

No more fake hoes
No more problems
If the money comes, I'ma keep it to myself
To myself

Written by:
Lowell Scott Ashbrook

Publisher:
Lyrics © Too Lost LLC

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