Know Bout Me
[Intro: Jay-Z]We gotta sell these bitches the dream, my niggaNiggas like Walt Disney around this bitch
[Verse 1: Timbaland]You're in the presence of the realCan't fathom where I'm at, baby, pop another pillIn a whole another reelIf you want to make a movie let me knowIt's a whole another filmI suggest you get your dress for the Golden GlobesWhat you know about TimTop down, the Aventador, 4 AMOn the sunset stripTrying to get high at the sunset, baby don't tripHollywood lights, Miami nightsI'm on a motherfucking bingeJust might go and buy a BenzOr trade a car for your friendsOh yeah, we playing with them M's
[Hook: Timbaland]Ridin' down Collins with my entourage followingJust left SoHo headed to the Go-GoLap dance for the girlsLet her put her hands on the curvesYou ain't about that life, you scurredAh, baby, you scurred like skrrt to the cribWhat you know about the kidWhat you know bout me, what you know bout meWhat you know bout me, what you know bout meNot a muthafuckin thing, not a muthafuckin thingNot a muthafuckin thing, not a muthafuckin thing
[Verse 2: Drake]I just got back home, 40 days on vacationNo one killing the game, shit is all for the takingWhat the fuck did I stutter? am I being mistaken?I'm a s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-star in the makin'Who you said was the man? What the fuck is a dealReally do it the best, I'm DJ Khaled for realGot my thumb on the pulse, got impeccable timin'If they forgot about my worth, I got a check to remind 'emGot some things on the wrist, Cartier with the diamondsIf this was 10 years ago nigga would've went diamondI been singing and rapping I make a killin' in bothIf I had to choose a Jackson man I'm feelin' like BoFresh down to the socks, team look like the RaidersI don't take this shit for granted, I'd like to thank my creatorI'm coming b-b-b-b-b-b-b-back on you hatersI'm 'bout to put this bitch on her back and get back to you laterMan, what's up
[Hook: Timbaland]
[Outro: James Fauntleroy]Imagine straight from work to the plane, ain't no baggage claimDon't need to change your clothes, girl, or your last nameMotherfuckers want to act like I'm a callIf you want to be a star, girl you need a co-starGot some bitches we can call up, babeNow they want to know who you are and how you got thereGirl, I can try to care, oh, get you out of hereYou and all this gold on meOn a plane going home, not as you wantWhat you motherfuckers know about me?