You know we came so far Young superstar (money in the bank) We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more It's no stoppin' him, he's in the books like Pac and em From early, homey had hip-hop in him The era of the unlaced kicks, he was rockin' em Way before the sheepskin flicks, chicks been jockin' him Right down the block from Wop and em Niggas either dead or the feds is knockin em, he's still here Comparisons in these years is real rare It's embarrassing, the bars he spit, he still care Never let a bitch in his ear, it ain't worth it When alone, you gotta look in the mirror, what's the purpose? From the gutter, bad motherfucker From under that hustler's umbrella, none other Than he who speaks would need it Once said, then his dead homey won't repeat it, well bred Black with the solar facts, so exact I was told they want the old god back, I'm here You know we came so far Young superstar (money in the bank) We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more A-Zah Malik Allah Repertoire like W.E.B. Du Bois, who ya'll? Fraus like I came from afar See bullet wounds, blood leak through the tar, baby pa I'm the homey Obi Wan Kanobe, no Soke Supposedly I'm potent with poetry, the almighty Most likely in the midst of the sheisty I know the D.A. got dreams to indict me, do the math I came, I saw, I smashed Seen niggas get millions, get murdered and bagged All I ask is those that respect the code Respect my mode, I'm a HBO episode Filmed in the streets of New York, it's real talk My whole life is sealed in the cork, it's rap's fault Coupes, cribs, chauffers and yachts, gimme props 'Til I'm dead and my physical rots, I'm still hot You know we came so far Young superstar (money in the bank) We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more We want more, you know we want more Look, the rain is gone, the game Just like Ming and Sean, Dave and Kareem We the American dream, with 215 Vacheron Constantin The $300, 000 Dan Nice and Alain Silberstein The Princess catalog from Vinny Carl's regime That's the most prestigious catalog in the world, man That's $800, 000, 000 in diamonds, man, all precious cut The $40, 000, 000 Gulf Stream The Enzo Ferrari, the F-1 McLaren The Pagani Zanda made my Hiroshime The mansion in Rome and island Any complainin's all in the dream I'm like Bo Bill with a twirl of king I'm like the count of Beijing with a mix of Ming I'm like, Lebron James holdin' down his team I'm like, Elijah Muhammad on top of his Din A wonder and a light you ain't never seen Y'all in trouble niggas, it's a new regime We on the screen, every magazine Call me at home in Athens, Rome, nigga's officially on Nigga I'm in that zone, we in full rotation and syndication Malik man, you still got a crush on Ananda? Me and AZ in the Pagani Zanda We in Germany on the auto-don And I'm the Don and he the Don The girls wrapped in our arms, seen accentuous charm Hate if you want but don't front! It's the billion dollar boys with the billion dollar toys With the billion dollar bitches With the maintenance on livin' about the minute a month