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[Jay-Z]:Turn my music high, high, high, high-yerYou don't know what you doSure I doI'm from the streets where the hood could swallow 'emAnd bullets'll follow 'em and, it's so much coke that you could run a slalomAnd cops comb the shit, top to bottomThey say that we are prone to violence, but it's home sweet homeWhere personalities clash and chrome meets chromeThe coke prices up and down like it's Wall Street, homesBut this is worse than the Dow Jones, ya brains are now blown all over that brown BrohamOne slip, you are now goneWelcome to hell where you are welcome to sellBut when the shells come, you better return 'emAll scars, we earn 'em, all cars we learn 'em, like the back of our handWe watch for cops hoppin' out the back of vansWear a G on my chest, I don't need that, but damnThis ain't sewn outfit, homes, homes is about itWas clappin' the flamers before I became famousBut playin' me, y'all shall forever remain nameless(You don't know what you do)I am HovSure I doI'll tell you the difference between me and them They tryin' to get they ones, I'm tryin' to get them M'sOne million, two million, three million, fourIn just five years, 40 million moreYou are now lookin' at the 40 million boyI'm rapin' Def Jam 'til I'm the hundred million manR-O-C (You don't know what you do)That's were you're wrongI came into this muthafucka hundred grand strongNine to be exact, from grindin' G-packsPut the shit in motion, ain't no rewindin' me backCould make 40 off a brick, but one rhyme could be thatAnd if somebody would've told 'em that Hov would sell clothingNot in this lifetime, wasn't in my right mindThat's another difference that's between me and them, I smartin' up, open the market upOne million, two million, three million, fourIn 18 months, 80 million moreNow add that number up wit' the one I said beforeYou are now lookin' at one smart black boyMama ain't raised no foolPut my anywhere on God's green Earth, I'll triple my worth, muthafuckas(You don't know what you do)I will not losePut 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*] more