Lirik Lagu What We Do - Freeway F/ Beanie Sigel, Jay-Z
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[Freeway]
Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids niggaIt's 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 downIt's a cold winterY'all niggaz better bundle upAnd I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onionYes the ROC gets down, you hot now, listen upDon't you know cops' whole purpose is to lock us down?And throw away the keyBut without this drug shit your kids ain't got no way to eat, huh?We still try to keep Mom...smilin'...Cuz 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 personCatch 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 prisonFuck a Bentley or a Lexus just my boys in the squadderNigga talk reckless then I hit 'em with the Smif 'n...But I'm never snitchin' I'm a riderIf my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchenI'll be wylin' til they pick me outta line-up...We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about itWyle out, fuck niggaz up, laugh about itI'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 sinsFreeway 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 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 won't 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 Free's beard's stickin' outY'all don't 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...That's above us, make beds for the babiesTuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothersShit I'll probably be wylin' with their fathersTell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I'm ridin' for her fatherThat's 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 ain't thank us but we still paid homage mangSoul Food Sunday lookin' like Big Momma's mangTell the gang I never break my promise mang...mang...unnh!
Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids niggaIt's 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 downIt's a cold winterY'all niggaz better bundle upAnd I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onionYes the ROC gets down, you hot now, listen upDon't you know cops' whole purpose is to lock us down?And throw away the keyBut without this drug shit your kids ain't got no way to eat, huh?We still try to keep Mom...smilin'...Cuz 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 personCatch 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 prisonFuck a Bentley or a Lexus just my boys in the squadderNigga talk reckless then I hit 'em with the Smif 'n...But I'm never snitchin' I'm a riderIf my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchenI'll be wylin' til they pick me outta line-up...We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about itWyle out, fuck niggaz up, laugh about itI'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 sinsFreeway 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 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 won't 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 Free's beard's stickin' outY'all don't 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...That's above us, make beds for the babiesTuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothersShit I'll probably be wylin' with their fathersTell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I'm ridin' for her fatherThat's 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 ain't thank us but we still paid homage mangSoul Food Sunday lookin' like Big Momma's mangTell the gang I never break my promise mang...mang...unnh!
