I still wanna be famous, I can't deny that fact
Cause every time it comes back, it still muthafuckin' irks me
Yeah, that's right it hurts me, right down to my soul
Feel like I let down my inner eleven year old
I'm almost 30 years old, been rapping 15 years
You would think I'd have accomplishments instead of being here
And here's not famous, but trust me I'm respected
My opinion not neglected I just can't go get a necklace
Can't hop up on that private jet, hit Vegas for the night
Call some hoes, get some mud and then watch them bitches fight
No headline show at SOB's, kicking it with Elliott Wilson
No jam of the week, no Funk Flex and afternoons with Angie
But I'm saying b, by not being famous does that really hurt me
Just cause I haven't toured once do I lose that credibility
Do all these songs and all these mixtapes really just count for nothing
Or am I overthinking it and all of its a blessing?

What will I really be known for?
Will it be scribbling these rhymes?
Will it be this voice of mine?
What can the people hold on to?
Besides their memories of me?
Is there something they can touch or see?
Or will they even remember?
Am I just a memory in time?
And someone who just slips their mind?
So what will the people say?
That I accomplished in this time?
What will be this legacy of mine?
Legacy of mine.

29, no record deal
No big breaks, no dope wheels
No nice house, not even a nice watch
No San Tropez, with an ocean spray, with a dope babe, giving up nice crotch
But I got heat rocks, whether you like it or not
Writing this on the clock instead of opening shipping box
In a tight spot, telling my boss I'm not a rapper
Cause she makes fun and I don't wanna hear it cause she don't know what I'm after
This is my final chapter, no John Byrne
Stay on my Nerd Fresh shit, what?, no heel turn
Gotta let it burn cause these attention spans ain't lasting
Gonna move to the next and cash in, will these rhymes be everlasting
I don't really know, just one man with a microphone
With a dream to be famous since New Year's Eve in ninety fo'
I should be happy with my catalog and at days end I will be
I just know as soon as I quit that's when these fuckas start to feel me.

So if paper lays still, you can write anything on it
And now I say you got dreams, you can build anything upon it
I know you've heard it befo', I'm leaning positive
I'm not gonna tell you you'll fail, there's no prerequisites
And that's just it, I could blow tomorrow
But would that cure the sorrow, would my time be borrowed
Would I wanna be famous if I was really famous
Or would I wish for a simple time when I was nameless
There's no shame in this, my mind always wanders
Wonders what if, I'm human, I just want many options
But what I really want is my music to mean something
To one person I don't know without any discussion
If I get that, I'm cool, you can have this rap shit
I'll drop these last projects and live a life of happiness
But I'll never know fo sho if my rhymes have any reach
So yeah I'll stop rapping and I'll start making beats.