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  • Letra A Million And One Questions / Rhyme No More de Jay-Z Ranking:
  • [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'

    Then I went low key, but now I'm back it's on

    Motherfuckers

    Jigga, uh-huh, yeah

    Roc-A-Fella y'all

    Uhh, feel this Puntuación:
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