There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
Hate again, it won’t make us dance, so save your breath on me
Don’t shake my hand and play my friend
It won’t take too long to see
How you throw dirt on me, cut me but I didn’t bleed
I’m still on my feet
Always want your head, but they love you when you’re dead
I’ve been on the run since I was young
There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
It’s not making sense, I don’t take offence
You won’t make my mind for me
Now you’re on the fence cuz you played the bench
I’m on my game you’ll see
How you throw dirt on me, cut me but I didn’t bleed
I’m still on my feet
Now they want my head, but they’ll love me when I’m dead
I’ve been on the run since I was young
There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
There are reporters and they want a story
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
(keep talkin)
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t bother me
And it makes no sense when I hear your speak
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t make no sense
(keep talkin)
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t bother me
And it makes no sense when I hear your speak
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t make no sense
(keep talkin)
There are reporters
(keep talkin)
and they want a story
(keep talkin)
Wanna talk about me
(keep talkin)
don’t know enough about me
(keep talkin)
There are reporters
(keep talkin)
and they want a story
(keep talkin)
Wanna talk about me
(keep talkin)
don’t know enough about me
(keep talkin)
(keep talkin, keep talkin, keep talkin)
(keep talkin)
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
Don’t shake my hand and play my friend
It won’t take too long to see
How you throw dirt on me, cut me but I didn’t bleed
I’m still on my feet
I’ve been on the run since I was young
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
You won’t make my mind for me
Now you’re on the fence cuz you played the bench
I’m on my game you’ll see
How you throw dirt on me, cut me but I didn’t bleed
I’m still on my feet
I’ve been on the run since I was young
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
Wanna talk about me, don’t know enough about me
And it makes no sense when I hear your speak
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t make no sense
And it makes no sense when I hear your speak
Don’t tie my nooses, don’t make no sense
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I know Santi is only the back vocalist to this song but she is easily recognized when she comes on and I think she makes an already good song into a great one even with minimal input added. The song is about paparazzi and how the media's news affects stars; even at a young age they're "on the run" from reporters. The obsession people have on the famous is an unnerving one, playing the "friend" but they "always want your head" and "they love you when you’re dead." The threatening lyrics, but not necessarily the tone of the music, makes notice of the deaths of the famed. Santi's echo of "keep talkin" is the same as saying keep this truth moving, that hollywood (and the likes of it) is not as it is painted to be. Who wants to join The 27 Club anyway? "Don’t tie my nooses, don’t bother me."