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 ****

Brooklyn, stand up

There's never been a **** be this good for this long

This hood or this pop, this hot or this strong

With so many different flows

This one's 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

Their whole style from then try to reverse the outcome, I'm like, "TAA!"

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 barrel'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

W-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 song to you

I know this much is true, true

Look at my life, see what I see (What more can I say to you? You heard it all)

You already know what I'm about, flying birds down south

Moving wet off the step, purple rain in a drought

Stuntin' on hoes, brushin' off my shirt

But ain't nothing on my clothes

'Cept my chains, my name

Young H-O, pitch the ye faithful

Even if they patrol, I make payroll

Benz paid for, friends, they roll

Private jets down to Turks and Caicos

Cris' caseloads, I don't give a shit

****, one life to live, I can't let a day go by

Without me being fly, fresh to death

Head to toe till the day I rest

And I don't wear jerseys, I'm thirty plus

Give me a crisp pair of jeans, ****, button-ups

S. Dots on my feet make my cipher complete

What more can I say? Guru, play the beat

Look at my life, see what I see

What more can I say?

Now you know ass is Willie when they got you in the mag

For like half a billy and your 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 know mean to boast, but damn, if I don't brag

Them crackers gonna act like I ain't on they ass

The Martha Stewart that's far from Jewish

Far from a Harvard student

Just had the 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 EQing it

One-two when I won't stop abusing it

To groupie girls, stop false accusing it

Back to the music, the Maybach roof is translucent

**** got a problem, Houston!

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 into your forehead

I'm not the one to score points off

In fact, I've got a joint that'll knock you points off

Young HOVA the God, ****, blasphemy

I'm at the Trump International, ask for me

I ain't never scared, I'm everywhere

You ain't never there, and ****, why would I ever care?

Pound for pound, I'm the best to ever come around here

Excluding nobody, look what I embody

The soul of a hustler, I really ran the street

A CEO's mind, that marketing plan was me

And no, I ain't got shot up a whole bunch of times

Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines

And I ain't animated like, say, a 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, man)

What more can I say?