What We Do
(feat. Beanie Sigel, Jay-Z) [Freeway] Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids nigga It's that real shit... [female singer, repeated throughout the verses] Even though what we do is wrong... We still hustle 'til the sun come up Crack a 40 when the sun go down It's a cold winter Y'all niggaz better bundle up And I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onion Yes the ROC gets down, you hot now, listen up Don't you know cops' whole purpose is to lock us down? And throw away the key But without this drug shit your kids ain't got no way to eat, huh? We still try to keep Mom...smilin'... 'Cause when the teeth stop showin' and the stomach start growlin' Then the heat start flowin' If you from the hood I know you feel me ([Jay-Z:] Keep goin'...) If a sneak start leanin' and the heat stop workin' Then my heat start workin' I'm-a rob me a person Catch a nigga sleepin' while he out in the open...and I'm-a get him ([Jay-Z:] Keep flowin'...) We gotta raise our kids while we livin' Make a million off-a record bail my niggaz outta prison F*ck a Bentley or a Lexus just my boys in the squadder Nigga talk reckless then I hit 'em with the Smif 'n... But I'm never snitchin' I'm a rider If my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchen I'll be wylin' til they pick me outta line-up... We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about it Wyle out, f*ck niggaz up, laugh about it I'm not tryin' to visit the morgue but Freeway move out 'til I sit with the Lord 'Til I...get my shit together, clean up my sins Freeway got it in like 10 in the mornin' And I can get it to ya like 10 while you yawnin' mang... Still deliver the order mang! And I ain't talkin' bout chicken and gravy mang! I'm talkin' bout bricks 'o ye-yo, halves and quarters 4 and a halves of hash you do the math Swing past us scoop up your daughter She want to roll wit' a thug that rap, you do the math He won't blast 'til my stacks in order mang! [Jay-Z] ... Mang! Lemme get 'em Free Hove never slackin' mang, zippin' in the black Range Faster than the red ghost, gettin' ghost wit' Pac-Mang One-time know a got a knack to get that change Leader of the black gang, are-O-see mang Bang like T-Mac, ski mask air it out Gotta kill witnesses 'cause Free's beard's stickin' out Y'all don't want no witness shit, we squeeze hammers mang Bullets breeze by you, like Lousiana mang... But I gotta feed Tianna mang... So I move keys you can call me the Piano Man Rain...sleet, hail...snow man Slang dough, E, hydro man... [Beanie Sigel] ...no, B. Sige in the third lane Gramps still prayin' workin on my nerves man... Like, "Son you gotta get your soul clean... Before they blow them horns like Coltrane..." But still I cry tears of a hustler Wipe tears from my mother, pull out beers for her brothers... That's above us, make beds for the babies Tuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothers Shit I'll probably be wylin' with their fathers Tell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I'm ridin' for her father That's like my brother, like same mother different father Any problems dog know I got 'em And still we grind from the bottom Just to make it to the bottom sold crack in the alleyways Still gave back Marcy a Dollar Day Real gangstas make hood holidays They ain't thank us but we still paid homage mang Soul Food Sunday lookin' like Big Momma's mang Tell the gang I never break my promise mang... mang... unnh!
Written by: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, DWIGHT GRANT, LESLIE PRIDGEN, SKIP SCARBOROUGH, JUSTIN GREGORY SMITH
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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