Tonart: E minor•
Verse 1
Am
G#m
(Are you not entertained?)
(Are.you.not.entertained?)
(Is this not why you're here?)
G#
C#m
Uh, Uh, Huh
F#m
Turn the mu sic up
C#m
Guru... Lets go get 'em again
This time it's for the money
C#
C#m
my nigga
Verse 2
Am
[Verse One]
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
Am
Too lazy to make up shit
They crazy
They don't... paint pictures
They just trace me
Am
Soon they forget where they
plucked
They whole style from
And try to reverse the outcome
I'm like... tough
I'm a writer
For myself and others
I say a B.I.G. verse I'm only
Em
Biggin up my borough
I'm big enough to do it
I'm that thorough
C
Plus I know my own flow is foolish
Am
So them 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
Few Diva's
What more can I tell you
Em
Let me spell it for you
W- I- Double L- I- E
Am
Nobody truer than H- O- V
Em
And I'm back for more
Am
New York's ambassador
Prime Minister back to finish my
Verse 3
business up
Am
[Chorus: Singing]
Em
Am
What more can I say?
Em
Am
What more can I do?
Em
Am
Em
I give this all to you
Am
Em
Am
I know this much is true
My Life
Em
Am
(Look at my life)
Em
Am
(See what I see)
Verse 4
Am
[Verse Two] 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 yay faithful
Even if they patrol I make payroll
Benz paid for
Friends they roll
Private jets down the Turks
Cris' case loads
I don't give a shit
Am
C
Nig ga one life to live I can't let a day go
Without me being fly
Fresh to death
Am
C
Head to toe until the day I rest
Am
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 my sight complete
What more can I say Guru play the beat,
I'm livin'
Em
Verse 5
ride into the hook
Em
I'mma snap my fingers on this one
What more can I say to you?
LET'S GO
(What more can I say?)
Verse 6
Am
[Verse Three]
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
Em
Am
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 ass
The Martha Stewart
That's far from Jewish
Em
Far from a Harvard student
Just had the balls to do it
Am
C
And no I'm not through with it
Em
In fact I'm just previewin it
Am
This ain't the show I'm just EQ'in it
C
Em
One, Two and I won't stop abusin it
Am
To groupie girls stop false accusin it
Back to the music
B
The Maybach roof is translucent
Am
Niggas got a problem Houston
What up B
They can't shut up me
Not even P.E.
I'mma ride
Am
God forgive me for my brash delivery
Em
But I remember vividly
Am
What these streets did to me
So picture me
Lettin these clowns nit pick at me
And Paint me like a pickiny
I will literally
Kiss Tee- Tee in the forehead
Em
Am
Tell her please forgive me
Then squeeze into your forehead
Em
Am
I'm not the one to score points off
Am
I got a joint to knock your points off
Young
Hova the God nigga blasphamy
Em
Am
I'm at the Trump International
Ask for me
I ain't never scared
I'm everywhere
Em
You ain't never there
Nigga why would I ever care
C
Pound for pound I'm the best to
ever come around here
Look what I embody
C
The soul of a hustler I really
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
Em
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
(What more can I say?)
Am
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