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What More Can I Say? Lyrics
(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, this 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 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 therough
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 Diva's
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 Yorks 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)
you already know what i'm about
flyin' birds down south
movin' wet off the step
purple Rain in the drought
stuntin' on hoes
brushin' off my shirt
but ain't nothin on my clothes
'cept 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 Kayko's
Chrys case loads
I don't give a shit
Nigga one life to live i can't let a day go by
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 cypher 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 previewin it
This ain't the show i'm just EQ'in it
One, Two and i won't stop abusin it
To groupie girls stop false accusin' it
Back to the music
The mayback roof is translucent
Niggas got a problem Houston
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 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
a CEO's mind
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 culutre
I supposed to be number one on everybody list
We'll see what happens when i no longer exist
Fuck this
(what more can i say?)
(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
This hood
Or this pop, this 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 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 therough
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 Diva's
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 Yorks ambassador
Prime Minister back to finish my business up
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)
flyin' birds down south
movin' wet off the step
purple Rain in the drought
stuntin' on hoes
brushin' off my shirt
but ain't nothin on my clothes
'cept 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 Kayko's
Chrys case loads
I don't give a shit
Nigga one life to live i can't let a day go by
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 cypher complete
What more can i say Guru play the beat
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?)
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 previewin it
This ain't the show i'm just EQ'in it
One, Two and i won't stop abusin it
To groupie girls stop false accusin' it
Back to the music
The mayback roof is translucent
Niggas got a problem Houston
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 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
a CEO's mind
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 culutre
I supposed to be number one on everybody list
We'll see what happens when i no longer exist
Fuck this
Add your song meanings, interpretations, facts, memories & more to the community.
This song was obvious and necessary for a "Last Album." Jay, struggling against the ghosts of two of the two hallowed fallen rap kings, is trying to assert that as long as he is alive there will be a certain allusive respect he will never get. While the falling of BIG and 2P were crushing, nothing could have been better for their legacy. They were never judged on a longer life time of work and "left" at the height of their fame. Whether they would have had their careers go the route of DMX or LL we will never know. This is indeed their gift and their curse.
Jay speculates that only when he's gone will he ever receive his true due of kudos. Of course the logic is circular, but that is the whole point of the song.
Actually it's ''Hova the God nigga blasphemy''. Great piece of work from Jay here.
Jay-Z should know that he has the kudos from the people that really matter... the fans. Fuck the magazines, TV, internet, news reels and radio stations. Dead or alive, I know where Jay-Z stands, up there with Biggie and 2Pac, in no particular order. He's just one of the great ones.