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What More Can I Say(Are you not entertained?)(Are..you..not..entertained?)(Is this not why you're here?)Uh, Uh, HuhTurn the music upTurn me downGuru...Lets go get 'em againThis time it's for the money my niggaBrooklyn stand up[Verse One]There's never been a nigga this good for this longThis hoodOr this pop is hotOr this strongWith so many different flowsThis ones for this songThe next one i'll switch upThis one will get bit upThese fucksTo lazy to make up shitThey crazyThey don't...paint picturesThey just trace meYou know whatSoon they forget who they pluckedThey whole style fromAnd try to reverse the outcomeI'm like...CLUCKI'm not a biterI'm a writterFor myself and othersI say a B.I.G. verse i'm only biggin up my brotherBiggin up my boroughI'm big enough to do itI'm that theroughPlus i know my own flow is foolishSo the rings and things you sing aboutBring em outIt's hard to yell when the bar-rel's in your mouthI'm in...New sneakersDeuce seatersA few Diva'sWhat more can i tell youLet me spell it for youW-I-Double L-I-ENobody truer than H-O-VAnd i'm back for moreNew Yorks ambassadorPrime Minister back to finish my business up[Chorus: Singing]What more can i say?What more can i do?I give this all to youI know this much is trueMy Life(Look at my life)(See what i see)[Verse Two]You already know what i'm aboutFlyin birds down southMovin wet off the stepPurple Rain in the droughtStuntin on hoesBrushin off my shirtBut ain't nothin on my clothes'Cept my chainMy nameYoung H-OPitch the yea faithfulEven if they patrol i make payrollBenz paid forFriends they rollPrivate jets down to Turks and Kayko'sChrys case loadsI don't give a shitNigga one life to live i can't let a day goByeWithout me being flyFresh to deathHead to toe until the day i restAnd i don't wear jerseys i'm thirty plusGive me a crisp pair of jeans nigga button upsS dots on my feetMakes my cycle completeWhat more can i say Guru play the beatWe gonna let this ride into the hookI'mma snap my fingers on this oneWhat more can i say to you?Get my grown man onLET'S GO(What more can i say?)[Verse Three]Now you know ass is willieWhen they got you in a magFor like half a billiAnd your ass ain't LillyWhiteThat mean that shit you write must be illyEither that or your flow is sillyIt's bothI don't mean to boastBut damn if i don't bragThem crackers gonna act like i ain't on they adsThe Martha StewartThat's far from JewishFar from a Harvard studentJust had the balls to do itAnd no i'm not through with itIn fact i'm just previewin itThis ain't the show i'm just EQ'in itOne, Two and i won't stop abusin itTo gropie girls stop false accusin itBack to the musicThe mayback roof is translucentNiggas got a problem HoustonWhat up BThey can't shut up meShut down INot even P.E.I'mma rideGod forgive me for my brash deiveryBut i remember vivilyWhat these streets did to meSo picture meLettin these clowns nit pick at mePaint me like a pickinyI will literallyKiss Tee-Tee in the forheadTell her please forgive meThen squeeze until your forheadI'm not the one to score points offIn factI got a joint to knock your points offYoungHova the God nigga blast for meI'm at the Trump InternationalAsk for meI ain't never scaredI'm everywhereYou ain't never thereNigga why would i ever carePound for pound i'm the best to ever come around hereExcluding nobodyLook what i embodyThe soul of a hustler i really ran the streetI CEO's mineThat marketing plan was meAnd no i ain't get shot up a whole bunch of timesOr make up shit in a whole bunch of linesAnd i ain't animated, like say a, Busta RhymesBut the real shit you get when you bust down my linesAdd that to the fact i went plat a bunch of timesTimes that by my influenceOn pop culutreI supposed to be number one on everybodys listWe'll see what happens when i no longer existFuck this(What more can i say?)
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