Testi musica canzoni

[somebody whispering]Somebody's pulling me closer to the groundI ain't panicked, I been here beforeSeems like only yesterday when I got up on that stageIn front of that crowdAnd showed them who was who, and what was whatMan look at these suckersI ain't no rapper, I'm a hustlerIt just so happens that I know how to rapOkay, I'm reloaded!(music drops in)[Jay-Z]I did it again niggazFucked up, right? I knowI know what y'all niggaz asking yourselfIs he gonna ever fall off?No......a lot of speculationon the monies I've made, honeys I've slayedHow is he for real? Is that nigga really paid?Hustlers I've met or, dealt with directIs it true he slay the beef and slept with a tech?What's the position you hold? Can you really matcha triple platinum artist buck by buck by only a single goin gold?Roc-A-Fella ship fold, and you're left out in the coldIs it back to charging motherfuckers 11 for an OFor the millionth time askin meQuestions like Wendy Williams, harrassin methen get upset when I catch feelingsCan I get a minute to breathe? And in that minute you leaveWhile I'm looking at my Rol' ice spinnin on my sleeveUh, 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'sLatinos and Cheve's, down by Pico withh FredericoI answer all your questions but then y'all got to goNow the question I ask you is how bad you want to know? BLAOW!Roc-A-Fella y'all, uhh, uhKnow my styleMotherfuckers can't rhyme no more, bout crime no moreTil I'm no more, cause I'm so rawMy flow expose holes that they find in yoursWasn't for me, niggaz still be dying for whoresBut I hate when a nigga sit back, admirin yoursYoung blood you better get that, we frying baccarsNiggaz don't want to be confined to riding the iron horseAnd don't listen to the rappers, they dying to flossI used to be O.T., applyin the forceShoot up the whole block, then the iron I tossCome back with the click playing Diana RossI'm the boss and this is how it's gonna beBurnt the turnpike, wild miles on the VI got mouths to feed till they put flowers on meAnd kiss my cold cheek, chicks crying like I was CochiseTombstone read 'He Was Holdin No Leaks'Started from the crack game and then so sweetFreaked it to the rap game, Jigga the old-GOn MTV, telling em how I sold DAnd used to back work up out of apartment 4-BMe and my homie, started out coldiesPicked the mailbox lock cause I ain't have no keyHad the cable with the anchor when Jaz made 'Sophie'Then I went low key, but now I'm back it's onMotherfuckersJigga, uh-huh, yeahRoc-A-Fella y'allUhh, feel thismore free lyrics