We put these lines in front of these kids
Just to sell, cause that's the biz
But we're their world, we're what they live
For our words, we make our hits
Sold these shows, we've cashed these checks
We've killed this art, we've made this mess
Where's the soul, the love and the tears
That wrote these rhymes that we used to hear

What if I make it?
What if [bad word] too far from home?
What if I fake it?
How will I ever even know?
How will I ever even know?

I'm over the fame, I'm nobody's muse
Who will convict me, we made [bad word] My conscience is pressing, I'm left guessing
This is nonsense, I need to address it
So here I sit, I try to write again,
Fall off my lips, my words, in unison
I contemplate what they might produce
I risk my pride and [bad word] by what we sing to

What if I make it?
What if [bad word] too far from home?
What if I fake it?
How will I ever even know?

What if I make it?
What if [bad word] too far from home?
What if I fake it?
How will I ever even know?

And when the lights finally fall, and I stand alone barely breathing
What will my chest have to say about all the things that I've done
I hope that I can reflect on my mark on this map through the seasons
And see some good in the tracks that I have left on this world

What if I make it?
What if [bad word] too far from home?
What if I fake it?
How will I ever even know?
How will I ever even know?

Over the fame (x8)