Uncle Murda - Can't Tell Me Nothing (R.O.C. Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1 - Beanie Sigel] 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 bullsh**, I will flush it And I got the paper to wipe that a** Every little song and dance come out, y'all hype that trash And yo, I'm far from a hater Cause s**ers 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 n***as wear they boxers backwards n***as claim king but can't govern they household Now real n***as doing time from sh** they mouth told Why dick-eating n***as always rap with a mouth full? But you know they don't play with me The realest n***a alive -- what can these n***as say to me? Nothing [Hook - Kanye West] 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 [Verse 2 - Freeway] 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 k** '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 [Hook] [Verse 3 - Kanye West] 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 s**y 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, [Young Jeezy: If I had a billion dollars] 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 [Hook] [Verse 4 - Uncle Murda] Listen -- I ain't worried 'bout sh** It's a Roc-a-fella/GMG invasion, b**h You hear them n***as talking 'bout me? Ain't that some sh** These n***as is like b**hes -- 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 n***as could get in Roc-a-fella, Def Jam, GMG it's on Uncle Murda coming for the motherf**ing 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-a** ho's I'd be shooting motherf**ers everywhere I go, oh But the head I be getting got me chilling Got a n***a 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 n***as creeping around the corner They goners