A Million and One Questions

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 suckers I ain't no rapper, I'm a hustler It just so happens that I know how to rap OKAY, I'M RELOADED! A million Uh-huh, I've did it again niggas Fucked up, right? Ha, I know I know what y'all niggas asking yourself Is he gon' ever fall off? No... ... A lot of speculation on the monies I've made, honies I've slayed How is he for real? Is that nigga really paid? Hustlers I've met or, dealt with direct Is it true he stayed in beef and slept with a TEC? What's the position you hold? Can you really match a triple platinum artist buck by buck But only a single goin' gold? If Roc-A-Fella should fold, and you're left out in the cold Is it back to charging motherfuckers 11 for an O? For the millionth time, asking me questions Like Wendy Williams, harrassing 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 spinning on my sleeve Ugh, 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 Filipinos and Eses? Latinos and Chevys, down by Pico with Frederico I'll answer all your questions but then y'all got to go Now the question I ask you is, "How bad you wanna know?" BLAOW! Aaliyah] A million Roc-A-Fella y'all, uhh, uh Know my style Motherfuckers 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, niggas still be dying for whores But I hate when a nigga sit back, admiring yours Youngblood, you better get that, we frying because Niggas don't want to be confined to riding the iron horse And don't listen to the rappers yo, 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 clique playing Diana Ross I'm the boss and this is how it's gon' be Burnt the turnpike, wild miles on the V I got mouths to feed 'til 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 O.G On MTV, telling 'em how I sold D And used to bag work up out of apartment 4-B Me and my homie, started out co-d's 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 Motherfuckers!