Medley: Intro

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)
 A million (fucked up, right?)
 A million (ha, I know)
 A million (I know what y'all niggas asking yourself)
 A million (is he gon' ever fall off?)
 A million (no)
 A million
 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, harassing 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!
 A million
 A million
 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
 Young blood, 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!
 Jigga, uh-huh, yeah
 Roc-A-Fella y'all, uuuh
 Uhh, feel this