What More Can I Say

Turn the music up, turn me down Guru.. let's go get 'em again This time it's for the money my nigga Brooklyn, stand up There's never been a nigga this good for this long This hood, or this pop, this hot, or this strong With so many different flows there's one for this song The next one I switch up, this one will get bit up These fucks, too lazy to make up shit, they crazy They don't, paint pictures, they just, trace me You know what? Soon they forget where they plucked They whole style from, they try to reverse the outcome I'm like - TOUGH! I'm not a biter I'm a writer for myself and others I say a B.I.G. verse, I'm only biggin up my brother Biggin up my borough, I'm big enough to do it I'm that thorough, plus I know my own flow is foolish So them rings and things you sing about, bring 'em out It's hard to yell when the bar-rell's in your mouth I'm in - new sneakers, dual-seaters Few divas, what more can I tell you? Let me spell it for you Double-U I, double-L, I-E Nobody truer than, H-O-V And I'm back for more, New York's ambassador Prime Minister, back to finish my business up What more can I say? What more can I do? I gave this up to you I know this much is true, true What more can I say to you? You heard it all You already know what I'm about, flyin birds down South Movin wet off the step, "Purple Rain" in a drought Stuntin on hoes; brushin off my shirt But ain't nuttin on my clothes 'cept my chain, my name Young H-O pitch the yay faithful Even if they patrol I make payroll Benz paid fo', friends they roll Private jets down to Turks and Caicos Crist' caseloads, I don't give a shit Nigga one life to live, I can't let a day go By without me bein fly or fresh to death Head to toe 'til the day I rest And I don't wear jerseys, I'm thirty plus Give me a crisp pair of jeans, nigga button up S. Dots on my feet make my cipher complete What more can I say? Guru play the beat! We gon' let this ride into the hook - I'ma snap my fingers on this one What more can I say to you? - Get my grown man on LET'S GO! Now you know yo' ass is Willie when they got you in the mag For like half a billy, and yo' ass ain't lily White that mean that shit you write must be illy Either that or your flow is silly - it's both I don't mean to boast, but damn if I don't brag Them crackers gon' act like I ain't on they ass To Martha Stewart, that's far from Jewish Far from a Harvard student, just had the balls to do it And no I'm not through with it In fact, I'm just previewin it This ain't the show, I'm just EQ'n it One-two and I won't stop abusin it To groupie girls, stop false accusin it Back to the music - the Maybach roof is translucent Niggas got a problem Houston! Heh What up B, they can't shut up me Shut down I, not even P.E., I'ma ride God forgive me for my brash delivery But I remember vividly what these streets did to me So picture me lettin these clowns nitpick at me Paint me like a pickany I will literally kiss T.T. in the forehead Tell her please forgive me then squeeze until you full 'head I'm not the one to score points off, in fact I got a joint that'll knock yo' points off Young, Hova the God, nigga blasphemy I'm at the Trump International, ask for me I ain't never scared, I'm everywhere you ain't never there And nigga, why would I ever care? Pound for pound I'm the best to ever come around here Excludin nobody, look what I embody The soul of a hustler, I really ran the street A CEO's mind, that marketin plan was me And no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of times Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines And I ain't animated like say I +Busta Rhymes+ But the real shit you get when you bust down my lines Add that to the fact I went plat' a bunch of times Times that by my influence on pop culture I'm supposed to be number one on everybody list We'll see what happens when I no longer exist Fuck this!