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!