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Lyric U Don t Know


[Jay-Z]:
Turn my music high, high, high, high-yer
You don t know what you do
Sure I do

I m from the streets where the hood could swallow em
And bullets ll follow em and, it s so much coke that you could run a 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 clash and chrome meets chrome
The coke prices up and down like it s Wall Street, homes
But this is worse than the Dow Jones, ya brains are now blown all over that brown Broham
One slip, you are now gone
Welcome to hell where you are welcome to sell
But when the 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 hoppin out the back of vans
Wear a G on my chest, I don t need that, but damn
This ain t sewn outfit, homes, homes is about it
Was clappin the flamers before I became famous
But playin me, y all shall forever remain nameless
(You don t know what you do)
I am Hov
Sure I do

I ll tell you the difference between me and them
They tryin to get they ones, I m tryin to get them M s
One million, two million, three million, four
In just five years, 40 million more
You are now lookin at the 40 million boy
I m rapin Def Jam til I m the hundred million man
R-O-C (You don t know what you do)
That s were you re wrong

I came into this muthafucka hundred grand strong
Nine to be exact, from grindin G-packs
Put the shit in motion, ain t no rewindin me back
Could make 40 off a brick, but one rhyme could be that
And if somebody would ve told em that Hov would sell clothing
Not in this lifetime, wasn t in my right mind
That s another difference that s between me and them, I smartin up, open the market up
One million, two million, three million, four
In 18 months, 80 million more
Now add that number up wit the one I said before
You are now lookin at one smart black boy
Mama ain t raised no fool
Put my anywhere on God s green Earth, I ll triple my worth, muthafuckas
(You don t know what you do)
I will not lose

Put something 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 wit the roof gone and switch plates
Was born to dictate, never follow orders
Dick face, get ya shit straight, fucka, this is Big Jay, I (haha)
(You don t know what you do)
Will not lose ever
Fucka

[*Music to fade*]