[somebody whispering] 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! (music drops in) [Jay-Z] I did it again niggaz Fucked up, right? I know I know what y'all niggaz 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 nigga 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 motherfuckers 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 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, niggaz still be dying for whores But I hate when a nigga sit back, admirin yours Young blood you better get that, we frying baccars Niggaz 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'