What More Can I Say
Album: The Black Album
Release Date: 11/14/03
Label: Def Jam
Explicit version of "What More Can I Say" lyrics
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
Guru
This time it's for the money my nigga
Brooklyn
There's never been a nigga this good for this long
This hood
With so many different flows there's one for this song
The next one I switch up
These f****
They don't
You know what? Soon they forget where they plucked
they whole style from
I'm like
I'm not a biter I'm a writer for myself and others
I say a B.I.G. verse
Biggin up my borough
I'm that thorough
So them rings and things you sing about
It's hard to yell when the bar-rell's in your mouth
I'm in new sneakers
Few divas
Let me spell it for you
Double U I
Nobody truer than
And I'm back for more
Prime Minister
What more can I say?
What more can I do?
I gave this up to you
I know this much is true
What more can I say to you?
You heard it all
You already know what I'm about
Movin' wet off the step
Stuntin' on hoes
But ain't nuttin' on my clothes 'cept my chain
Young H-O pitch the yay faithful
Even if they patrol I make payroll
Benz paid fo'
Private jets down to Turks and Caicos
Crist' caseloads
Nigga one life to live
By without me bein' fly or fresh to death
Head to toe 'til the day I rest
And I don't wear jerseys
Give me a crisp pair of jeans
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
White that mean that s*** you write must be illy
Either that or your flow is silly
I don't mean to boast
Them crackers gon' act like I ain't on they ass
The Martha Stewart
Far from a Harvard student
And no I'm not through with it
In fact
This ain't the show
One-two and I won't stop abusin' it
To groupie girls
Back to the music
Niggaz got a problem Houston! Heh
What up B
Shut down I
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
I got a joint that'll knock yo' points off
Young
I'm at the Trump International
I ain't never scared
And nigga
Pound for pound
Excludin' nobody
The soul of a hustler
A CEO's mind
And no I ain't get shot up a whole bunch of times
Or make up s*** in a whole bunch of lines
And I ain't animated like say a Busta Rhymes
But the real s*** 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*** this!
What more can I say?
© CARTER BOYS PUBLISHING