She stuck a cell phone camera right into my face. With a flick of my wrist I filled her nose fulla mace. The cops wanted to know what was wrong with me. Didn't give me a chance to explain it see. It ain't her fault for bein careless. It ain't her fault for bein brainless. It ain't her fault for bein hopeless. But it's my fault for bein famous. I'm at the LAX just a-checkin my bag. When up comes a little paparazzi scumbag. I took a laptop slapped him up the side his head. The cops wanted to know why I left him for dead. It ain't his fault for bein nameless. It ain't his fault for bein thoughtless. It ain't his thought for bein shameless. But it's my fault for bein famous. (Let her go boy). I had a sweet old lady walk up to me. Wanted to get a photograph for her grandson to see. And as the digital camera lit up the place. She unloaded a chrome 45 in my face. But it ain't her fault for bein ruthless. Ain't her fault for bein toothless. Ain't her fault for bein blameless. But it's my fault for bein famous. (Ah one more we can get it better than that honey)