Freeway - What We Do Lyrics
[freeway]Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids niggaIts that real shit...[female singer, repeated throughout the verses]Even though what we do is wrong...We still hustle til the sun come upCrack a 40 when the sun go downIts a cold winterYall niggaz better bundle upAnd I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onionYes the roc gets down, you hot now, listen upDont you know cops whole purpose is to lock us down?And throw away the keyBut without this drug shit your kids aint got no way to eat, huh?We still try to keep mom...smilin...Cuz when the teeth stop showin and the stomach start growlinThen the heat start flowinIf you from the hood I know you feel me ([jay-z:] keep goin...)If a sneak start leanin and the heat stop workinThen my heat start workin im-a rob me a personCatch a nigga sleepin while he out in the open...and im-a get him ([jay-z:] keep flowin...)We gotta raise our kids while we livinMake a million off-a record bail my niggaz outta prison***** a bentley or a lexus just my boys in the squadderNigga talk reckless then I hit em with the smif n...But Im never snitchin Im a riderIf my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchenIll be wylin til they pick me outta line-up...We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about itWyle out, ***** niggaz up, laugh about itIm not tryin to visit the morgue but freeway move out til I sit with the lordtil i...get my shit together, clean up my sinsFreeway got it in like 10 in the morninAnd I can get it to ya like 10 while you yawnin mang...Still deliver the order mang!And I aint talkin bout chicken and gravy mang!Im talkin bout bricks o ye-yo, halves and quarters4 and a halves of hash you do the mathSwing past us scoop up your daughterShe wanna roll wit a thug that rap, you do the mathHe wont blast til my stacks in order mang![jay-z]...mang! lemme get em freeHove never slackin mang, zippin in the black rangeFaster than the red ghost, gettin ghost wit pac-mangOne-time know a got a knack to get that changeLeader of the black gang, r-o-c mangBang like t-mac, ski mask air it outGotta kill witnesses cause frees beards stickin outYall dont want no witness shit, we squeeze hammers mangBullets breeze by you, like lousiana mang...But I gotta feed tianna mang...So I move keys you can call me the piano manRain...sleet, hail...snow manSlang dough, e, hydro man...[beanie sigel]...no, b. sige in the third laneGramps 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 hustlerWipe tears from my mother, pull out beers for her brothers...Thats above us, make beds for the babiesTuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothersShit Ill probably be wylin with their fathersTell ms. robert, tell enijah that Im ridin for her fatherThats like my brother, like same mother different fatherAny problems dog know I got emAnd still we grind from the bottomJust to make it to the bottom sold crack in the alleywaysStill gave back marcy a dollar dayReal gangstas make hood holidaysThey aint thank us but we still paid homage mangSoul food sunday lookin like big mommas mangTell the gang I never break my promise mang...mang...unnh!
