Into/A Million And One Questions/Rhyme No More

Somebody's pulling me closer to the ground
I ain't panicked, I been here before
Seems like only yesterday when I got up on that stage
In front of that crowd
And showed them who was who, and what was what
Man look at these s*ckers
I ain't no rapper, I'm a hustler
It just so happens that I know how to rap
Okay, I'm reloaded!

I did it again n*ggaz
f**ked up, right? I know
I know what y'all n*ggaz asking yourself
Is he gonna ever fall off?
No...

...A lot of speculation
On the monies I've made, honeys I've slayed
How is he for real? Is that n*gga really paid?
Hustlers I've met or, dealt with direct
Is it true he slay the beef and slept with a tech?
What's the position you hold? Can you really match
A triple platinum artist buck by buck by only a single goin gold?
Roc-A-Fella ship fold, and you're left out in the cold
Is it back to charging motherf**kers 11 for an O
For the millionth time askin me
Questions like Wendy Williams, harrassin me
Then get upset when I catch feelings
Can I get a minute to breathe? And in that minute you leave
While I'm looking at my Rol' ice spinnin on my sleeve
Uh, nice watch, do you really have a spot?
Like you said in Friend or Foe and if so, what block?
What you doin in L.A., with phillipinos and ese's
Latinos and Cheve's, down by Pico withh Frederico
I answer all your questions but then y'all got to go
Now the question I ask you is how bad you want to know? BLAOW!

Roc-A-Fella y'all, uhh, uh
Know my style

Motherf**kers can't rhyme no more, 'bout crime no more
Til I'm no more, 'cause I'm so raw
My flow expose holes that they find in yours
Wasn't for me, n*ggaz still be dying for wh*res
But I hate when a n*gga sit back, admirin yours
Young blood you better get that, we frying baccars
n*ggaz don't want to be confined to riding the iron horse
And don't listen to the rappers, they dying to floss
I used to be O.T., applyin the force
Shoot up the whole block, then the iron I toss
Come back with the click playing Diana Ross
I'm the boss and this is how it's gonna be
Burnt the turnpike, wild miles on the V
I got mouths to feed till they put flowers on me
And kiss my cold cheek, chicks crying like I was Cochise
Tombstone read 'He Was Holdin No Leaks'
Started from the crack game and then so sweet
Freaked it to the rap game, Jigga the old-G
On MTV, telling em how I sold D
And used to back work up out of apartment 4-B
Me and my homie, started out coldies
Picked the mailbox lock cause I ain't have no key
Had the cable with the anchor when Jaz made 'Sophie'
Then I went low key, but now I'm back it's on
Motherf**kers
Jigga, uh-huh, yeah
Roc-A-Fella y'all
Uhh, feel this