text: Theres 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 switch up, this one will get bit up
  These fucks, too lazy to make up shit, they crazy
  They dont, paint pictures, they just, trace me
  You know what? Soon they forget where they plucked
  Their whole style from then try to reverse the outcome
  Im like, TAA!
  Im not a biter, Im a writer for myself and others
  I say a B.I.G. verse, Im only biggin up my brother
  Biggin up my borough, Im big enough to do it
  Im that thorough, plus I know my own flow is foolish 
  So them rings and things you sing about, bring em out
  Its hard to yell when the barrels in your mouth
  Im in, new sneakers, dual-seaters, few divas
  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 Im back for more, New Yorks ambassador
  Prime Minister, back to finish my business up
  I look at you all, see the love there thats sleeping
  What more can I say?
  What more can I do?
  What-what more?
  What more can I say to you? You heard it all
  You already know what Im about: flyin birds down South
  Movin wet off the step, purple rain in a drought
  Stuntin on hoes, brushin off my shirt
  But aint 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 to Turks and Caicos
  Cris caseloads, I dont give a shit
  Nigga, one life to live, I cant let a day go
  By without me bein fly, fresh to death
  Head to toe til the day I rest
  And I dont wear jerseys, Im 30-plus
  Give me a crisp pair of jeans, nigga, button-ups
  S. Dots on my feet make my cipher complete
  What more can I say? Guru, play the beat!
  My nigga, hahahaha, woo!
  We gon let this ride into the hook
  - Ima snap my fingers on this one
  What more can I say to you?
  - Get my grown man on
  LETS GO!
  Now you know your ass is Willie when they got you in the mag
  For like half a billy and your ass aint lily-White
  That mean that shit you write must be illy
  Either that or your flow is silly, its both!
  I dont mean to boast, but damn, if I dont brag
  Them crackers gon act like I aint on they ass
  The Martha Stewart thats far from Jewish
  Far from a Harvard student, just had the balls to do it
  And no Im not through with it
  In fact, Im just previewin it
  This aint the show, Im just EQin it
  One-two and I wont stop abusin it
  To groupie girls: stop false accusin it
  Back to the music - the Maybach roof is translucent
  Niggas got a problem, Houston!
  What up B, they cant shut up me
  Shut down I, not even P.E., Ima 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 Ti-Ti in the forehead
  Tell her, Please forgive me, then squeeze into your forehead
  Im not the one to score points off, in fact
  I got a joint thatll knock your points off
  Young Hova the God, nigga, blast for me
  Im at the Trump International, ask for me
  I aint never scared, Im everywhere, you aint never there
  And nigga, why would I ever care?
  Pound for pound, Im the best to ever come around here
  Excludin nobody, look what I embody:
  The soul of a hustler, I really ran the street
  A CEOs mind, that marketin plan was me
  And no I aint get shot up a whole bunch of times
  Or make up shit in a whole bunch of lines
  And I aint 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 culture
  Im supposed to be number one on everybody list
  Well see what happens when I no longer exist
  Fuck this man!
  What more can I sayyyyyyyyyyy?