Are you not entertained? Are you not entertained?
Is this not why you are here?
Uh uh-huh
Uh uh-huh uhh
Turn the music up, turn me down
Guru, let`s go get `em again
This time it`s for the money my ni**a
Brooklyn, stand up

There`s never been a ni**a 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 f**ks, too lazy to make up s**t, 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 s**t
Ni**a 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, ni**a 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

What more can I say?

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 s**t 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
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 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
Ni**az 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, ni**a blasphemy
I`m at the Trump International, ask for me
I ain`t never scared, I`m everywhere you ain`t never there
And ni**a, 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 s**t in a whole bunch of lines
And I ain`t animated like say a Busta Rhymes
But the real s**t 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
F**k this!

What more can I say?