[Jay-Z]
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er

[Chorus]
You don't know, what you're doing, doing, doing, doing
Sure I

I'm from the streets where the
Hood could swallow a man, bullets'll follow a man
There's so much coke that you could run the slalom
And cops comb the shit top to bottom
They say that we are prone to violence, but it's home sweet home
Where personalities crash and chrome meets chrome
The coke prices up and down like it's Wall Street homes
But this is worse than the Dow Jones your brains are now blown
All over that brown Brougham, one slip you are now gone
Welcome to hell where you are welcome to sell
But when them shells come you better return 'em
All scars we earn 'em, all cars we learn 'em like the back of our hand
We watch for cops hopping out the back of van
Wear a G on my chest, I don't need Dapper Dan
This ain't a sewn outfit homes, homes is about it
Was clapping them flamers before I became famous
For playing me y'all shall forever remain nameless
I am Hov'

Sure I do, I tell you the difference between me and them
They trying to get they ones, I'm tryin to get them M's
One million, two million, three million, four
In just five years, forty million more
You are now looking at the forty million boy
I'm rapping Def Jam 'til I'm the hundred million man
R., O., C.

[Chorus]

I came into this motherfucker a hundred grand strong
Nine to be exact, from grinding G-packs
Put this shit in motion ain't no rewinding me back
Could make 40 off a brick but one rhyme could beat that
And if somebody would of told 'em that Hov' would sell clothing
Heh, not in this lifetime, wasn't in my right mind
That's another difference that's between me and them
Heh, I'm smarten up, open the market up
One million, two million, three million, four
In eighteen months, eighty million more
Now add that number up with the one I said before
You are now looking at one smart black boy
Momma ain't raised no fool
Put me anywhere on God's green earth, I'll triple my worth
Motherfucker, I, will, not, lose

You don't know, what you're doing, doing, doing, doing
Put somethin on it

I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in hell
I am a hustler baby, I'll sell water to a well
I was born to get cake, move on and switch states
Cop the Coupe with the roof gone and switch plates
Was born to dictate, never follow orders
Dickface, get your shit straight, fucker this is Big Jay
I

You don't know.. what you're doing, doing, doing, doing
Will, not, lose, ever, fucker!

Writer : CARTER, SHAWN C/BYRD, BOBBY
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing, Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.