Текст песни U Don't Know, Jay Z

Turn my music high, high, high, high-er!

[Bobby Byrd:]
You don't know... what you're doing, doing, doing.

Sure, I do.
I'm from the streets where the
Hood could swallow ‘em, and bullets'll follow ‘em,
And there's so much coke that you could run the slalom,
And cops comb this 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, holmes,
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 backa van.
Wear a G on my chest, I don't need Dapper Dan,
This ain't a sewn outfit, holmes, holmes is about it,
Was clappin' them flamers before I became famous,
For playin' me y'all shall forever remain nameless,
I am Hov.

[Bobby Byrd:]
You don't know... what you're doing, doing, doing.

Sure, I do.
I tell you the difference between me and 'em:
They tryin' to get they ones, I'm tryna 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 reppin' Def Jam till I'm the hundred million man,
R – O – C.

[Bobby Byrd:]
You don't know... what you're doing, doing, doing.

That's where you're wrong.
I came into this motherfucker a hundred grand strong,
Nine to be exact, from grindin' G-packs,
Put this shit in motion, ain't no rewindin' me back.
Could make 40 off a brick but one rhyme could beat that.
And if somebody woulda 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 ‘em:
I 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 lookin' 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.

[Bobby Byrd:]
You don't know... what you're doing, doing, doing.

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 with the roof gone and switch plates,
Was born to dictate, never follow orders.
Dickface, get your shit straight,
Fucka, this is Big Jay!
I! Will! Not! Lose! Ever! Fucka!

[Bobby Byrd:]
You don't know... what you're doing, doing, doing.