conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Can’t Tell Me Nothing (R.O.C. Remix) with the following description: A fantastic (well, for three of the four verses, anyway) remix of Kanye’s first Graduation single, featuring Roc-a-fella’s few remaining great rappers…and Uncle Murda Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [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 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
  [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 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 [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 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, [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 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