Lyrics at the bottom [press more] [Jay-Z] Turn my music high, high, high, high-er {*”You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing, doing..”*} Sure I do.. 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 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 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 hoppin 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 clappin them flamers before I became famous For playin me y’all shall forever remain nameless I am Hov’ Sure I do, I 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, forty million more You are now lookin at the forty million boy I’m rapin Def Jam ’til I’m the hundred million man R., O., C. {*”You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing, doing..”*} That’s where you’re wrong I came into this motherfucker a hundred grand strong Nine to be exact …
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