Say Less

Swizz BeatzSwizz Beatz 

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Swizz Beatz

Kasseem David Dean (born September 13, 1978), better known by his stage name Swizz Beatz, is an American hip hop recording artist, record producer, disc jockey and painter from New York City. At the age of 16, he gained attention in the hip hop community through his friendship with rapper DMX. He found a protege in Philadelphia-based rapper Cassidy, who helped Dean launch his label Full Surface Records. more »

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Yeah, huh, okay
No 'tune right? Turn my voice up
Yeah
Say less
Tired of all the fake shit, tired of all the bullshit (yeah, Smurk, let's get it)
Tired of all these niggas talkin' 'bout they gon' do shit
Tired of all these niggas ready to squash shit
You got a problem, me, I ain't squashin' shit
Say less, say less, say less, say less
Say less, say less, say less, say less, yeah, yeah
(You know what the f*ck goin' on, man, Smurk, I'm with the 'Za, nigga, haha
Say less, yeah, yeah)

I ain't squashin' shit, Jay Z can tell me, "Do it," I'ma tell him, "No" (man, what?)
OGs get on the blogs, act like they killers, most them niggas hoes (rat)
Trenches, I'm like Drake, but I can't cap, that nigga baby Hov (yeah)
I grew up a screw up, had to heat the crib up with the stove (yeah)
Fifteen roaches crawled up on my face, DeDe probably trolled (man, he probably trolled)
I get a Grammy, I'm on stage with killers how I be at shows (grrah)
No gimmick, I told Pooh he just like Kendrick with a Shiesty flow (yeah)
I used to look up to them hood legends, some mices though (man, what?)
Say less, I had to shop at Payless, for lawyers you can't pay less
I can swipe off lawyers and for choppers with my Apex (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
"Durk ain't from the trenches," who the f*ck can really say that? 
"Durk ain't for his niggas," who the f*ck can really say that?

Say less (pussy), say less, say less, nigga, say less
Say less, nigga, say less, say less, nigga
Man, what? (Ayy)

Huh?
I ain't gotta talk about it, now I got it, look
Niggas stylist, get they style from me, I promise ya
I don't want the bitch if she don't do it sloppy, yeah
We not hearin' it, barbarians, the bed was rocky, her head was sloppy
The feds on my body 'cause my Cuban link so ocky, look
Hermès for Christmas, even if it ain't no holiday, I sled
For breakfast she gon' eat me up and swallow me, I'm like, "Yeah"
My ex-bitch don't like me, but she still follow me 'cause I'm lit
And my enemies shootin' in the air, like Hail Mary, we blitz
Look, ah, ah-ah, hmm, look, hmm, uh
After all that I did
Sorry, baby, I don't wanna find no love in Starlets
Ratchet, ratchet on me, ratchet right on my hip
Pass it to the broski, he gon' empty the clips
Like Tracy McGrady, I'ma keep one up in my shit
Let it off like the Navy, all my niggas ain't with nothin'
Let's go, me and Durkio, you know we, we wildin'
Word to mommy, Montana got booked for servin' aunties
Spin the block, sendin' shots, so much shots hit his body
You gon' think a nigga got the monkeypox
Ooh, don't diss, honest nigga, it's a warzone outside
Movin' like Little Red Robin, hoodie on all the time, look

Tired of all the fake shit, tired of all the bullshit
Tired of all these niggas talkin' 'bout they gon' do shit
Tired of all these niggas ready to squash shit
You got a problem, me, I ain't squashin' shit
Say less, say less, say less, say less, nigga
Say less, say less, nigga, say less, say less, nigga
Man, what?

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