cant tell me nothing roc remix
You can't tell me nothing
Gangster? I don't buy it -- you can't sell me nothing
I'm everything you thought I wasn't
Now check out how I does it on this K. West production
All your bullshit, I will flush it
And I got the paper to wipe that ass
Every little song and dance come out, y'all hype that trash
And yo, I'm far from a hater
Cause suckers gotta eat too -- get y'all paper
I ain't mad at cha -- I just can't deal with these fake rappers
Cause most of these niggas wear they boxers backwards
Niggas claim king but can't govern they household
Now real niggas doing time from shit they mouth told
Why dick-eating niggas always rap with a mouth full?
But you know they don't play with me
The realest nigga alive -- what can these niggas say to me? Nothing
La la la la, wait 'til I get my money right
La la la la, then you can't tell me nothing, right?
Excuse me, is you saying something?
Uh-uh, you can't tell me nothing
I had a dream that Jay and Dame was back together
And in that second, everything was back the same
In reality, your boy went to Mecca, came back
And said that I would never rap again
But I'm back and that's the way the ball bounce
A verse is a ounce, a album's a brick -- now it's time for traffic game
Y'all lame, I am the product
Hotter than lava, they wonder how this Roc-a-fella package came
First you take a brick of Jay, a brick of 'Ye
Couple quarters of Freeway, an ounce of Beans
Then you kill 'em with the flow
We the realest; even Dontrelle Willis couldn't out the team
We speak the truth and they believe us
Tell FEMA even Hurricane Katrina couldn't out the flames
Roc-a-fella here to stay, we airing out y'all lames
Free At Last on the way, so clear 'em out my lane
Yeah homie, this the theme song
First I get my money right, then I get my team on
If I always prayed to have gleam on
Three hundred dollar jeans on, do that mean I dream wrong?
And I was high as a Lear jet
Fly as the insect even though we in debt
And it don't matter if I get her number cause
When I get my money right, she gon' come running
And I be good like God with a extra "o"
God knows that my check needs some extra O's
And you know that you need to bring some extra
Not in jogging pants, either -- tell 'em wear some sexy clothes
Now my game so professional and my chain so fresh, they go
But after the fame, did you gain anything?
Damn, 'Ye, would you change anything?
Well, 
I'd cop more pink Polos and pop those collars
Misery love company, her nickname "Sorrow"
My Benz need company, her nickname Tahoe
"Wait 'til I get my money" everybody motto
So I'mma need a bravo for everything that I wrote
Yeah -- hey mama, they can't hate 'em
Cause after all of the drama, K slayed 'em
Listen -- I ain't worried 'bout shit
It's a Roc-a-fella/GMG invasion, bitch
You hear them niggas talking 'bout me? Ain't that some shit
These niggas is like bitches -- they all on my dick
They don't want no real G to get in position
I opened up the door so all my real niggas could get in
Roc-a-fella, Def Jam, GMG it's on
Uncle Murda coming for the motherfucking throne
Listen, you could call me the king of New York
You can't front, I'm doing my thing
If it wasn't for the chronic and these bad-ass ho's
I'd be shooting motherfuckers everywhere I go, oh
But the head I be getting got me chilling
Got a nigga like, let me focus on these millions, man
It got me not thinking 'bout these lames
They don't really want no beef, they ain't life-threatening
I'm puffing purple haze with that sour diesel
Can't forget that kush -- I'm high as a eagle
And just cause I'm high off that marijuana
Don't mean I don't see them niggas creeping around the corner
They goners