Текст песни Intro/A Million & One Questions/Rhyme No More, Jay Z

[Intro: Pain in Da Ass]
Somebody's pullin' 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 suckas! I ain't no rapper, I'm a hustler. It just so happens that I know how to rap. Okay! I'm reloaded!

[Million & One Questions]

[Refrain: Aaliyah]
A million.

[Jay-Z:]
I did it again, niggas,
Fucked up, right? I know.
I know what y'all niggas askin' yourself,
Is he gonna ever fall off?
No.

Lotta 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 TEC?
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 left out in the cold,
Is it back to chargin' mothafuckas 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 lookin' at my Rol, ice spinnin' 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 esés,
Latinos and chivas, down by Pico with Frederico?
I answer all y'all questions but then y'all got to go,
Now the question I ask you. is how bad you wanna know?
Blaow!

[Rhyme No More]

Roc-A-Fella y'all! Uh!
Know my style.

Mothafuckas can't rhyme no more, ‘bout crime no more
Till 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 dyin' for whores.
But I hate when a nigga sit back, admirin' yours,
Young blood, you better get that, we fryin' because
Niggas don't want to be confined to ridin' the iron horse,
And don't listen to the rappers, they dyin' 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 playin' 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 cryin' 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, tellin' ‘em how I sold D,
And used to bag work up out of apartment 4B.
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, mothafuckas!
Jigga, uh-huh! Yeah!
Roc-A-Fella y'all!
Uh, feel this.