What More Can I Say

Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained? Is this not why you're here? Uh, uh, huh 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 is hot Or this strong With so many different flows This ones for this song The next one I'll switch up This one will get bit up These fucks To lazy to make up shit They crazy They don't paint pictures They just trace me You know what Soon they forget who they plucked They whole style from And try to reverse the outcome I'm like, cluck I'm not a biter I'm a writer For myself and others I say a big 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 the rings and things you sing about Bring em out It's hard to yell when the bar-rel's in your mouth I'm in, new sneakers Deuce seaters A 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 give this all to you I know this much is true My life (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 the drought Stunting on hoes Brushing off my shirt But ain't nothing on my clothes Except my chain My name Young H-O Pitch the yea faithful Even if they patrol I make payroll Benz paid for Friends they roll Private jets down to Turks and Caheos Chrys case loads I don't give a shit Nigga one life to live I can't let a day go Bye Without me being fly Fresh to death Head to toe until the day I rest And I don't wear jerseys I'm thirty plus Give me a crisp pair of jeans nigga button ups S dots on my feet Make a cipher complete What more can I say Guru play the beat We gonna 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! (What more can I say?) Now you know ass is willie When they got you in a mag For like half a billi And your ass ain't Lilly 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 gonna act like I ain't on they ads The 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 previewing it This ain't the show I'm just EQ'in it One, two and I won't stop abusing it To groupie girls stop false accusing it Back to the music The Maybach roof is translucent Niggas got a problem Houston What up be 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 Letting these clowns nit pick at me Paint me like a pickiny I will literally Kiss Tee-Tee in the forehead Tell her please forgive me Then squeeze until your forehead I'm not the one to score points off In fact I got a joint to knock your points off Young Hova the God nigga blast for me I'm at the Trump International Ask for me I ain't never scared I'm everywhere You ain't never there Nigga 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 I CEO's mine That marketing 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 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 supposed to be number one on everybody's list We'll see what happens when I no longer exist Fuck this (What more can I say?)