You ain’t got enough stamps on your passport to fuck with Young H.O.
International, uh…
Show young boys how to do this thing
The maturation of Jay-Zeezy, ha
Check me out...

30’s the new 20, nigga, I’m so hot still
Uh
Better broad, better automobile
Uh
Better yard now, bet a hundred mil’
That by the song’s end I’ll prolly start another trend
I know everything you wan do
I did all that by the age of 21
By 22 I had that brand new Ag Coupe
I guess you could say that my living just begun
I’m young enough to know the right car to buy
Yet grown enough not to put rims on it
I got that 6-deuce with curtains so you can’t see me
And I didn’t even have to put tints on it
I don’t got the bright watch, I got the right watch
I don’t buy out the bar, I bought the Nightspot
I got the right stock, I got stockbrokers that’s movin it like white-tops
I know you like, “Fuck!”
This is child abuse, call DIFAS
I might just be getting nicer
You young boys ain’t ready fa’real
30’s the new 20, nigga, I’m so hot still!

I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
I used to play the block like dat (like dat)
I used to carry knots like dat (like dat)
Now I got Black Cards, good credit and such
Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up
Ha!

30’s the new 20, nigga, I’m on fire still
These young boys is like fire drills
Uh
False alarms
Uh
The next don?
Nah, he ain’t got it
On to the next one
Young still here
Yeah
Still here like Mike
Gotta stop playin’ with these childrens, yeah
I’m a bully with the bucks
Don’t let the patent leather shoes fool you young’un
I got the fully in the tux
Ha, that was my past, now I’m so grown up I don’t got one gun on me
Got a sum on me to hire a gun army get you spun like laundry
And I’ll be somewhere under palm trees, calmly
Listening to R&B
When we get the call he’s no longer with us, fire your babysitters
You lil fucks fall back fa’real
30’s the new 20, nigga, I’m so hot still!

I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
I used to wear my hoody like dat (like dat)
Five deep in the hoopty like dat (like dat)
Now I got Black Cards, good credit and such
Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up
Ha!

Ya’ll roll blunts, I smoke Cubans all day
Ya’ll young’uns chase, I’m (????) (Patron' and it's trade?)
I like South Beach but I’m in St. Tropez
Ya’ll drink Dom, but not Rose’
Hey
Ya chick shop at the mall
My chick burning down Bergdorf’s
Coming back with Birkin bags
Ya chick is like, “What type of purse is that?”
I’m from the era when niggas don’t snitch
You from the era where snitching is the shit
I’m afraid of the future-Why?
Ya’ll respect the one who got shot, I respect the shooter
Ya’ll go to parties to ice grill
I go to parties to party with nice girls
Young boys gotta chill
30’s the new 20, nigga I’m so hot still!

I used to let my pants sag, not givin’ a fuck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
I used to cruise the used car lot, put chrome on the truck
Baby boy, now I’m all grown up
Yeah, we used to ball like dat (like dat)
Now we own the ball team, holla back (holla back!)
Now I got Black Cards, good credit and such
Baby boy, cause I’m all grown up
Ha!