Luyện nghe bài hát What We Do

Man, if I get rocked, this shit for my kids,
It's that real

Even though what we do is

We still hustle the sun come up
Crack a 40 when the sun go
It's a cold winter, y'all better bundle up
An' I bet it be a summer, grab a onion

Yes, the ROC down, you hot now, listen up
Don't you cops' whole purpose is to lock us down?
An' throw the key, but without this drug shit
kids ain't got no way to eat

We still try to Mom smilin'
'Cuz when the teeth stop
An' the start growlin', then the heat start flowin'
If you from the hood, I you feel me, keep goin'

If a sneak leanin' an' the heat stop workin'
Then my start workin', I'ma rob me a person
a nigga sleepin' while he out in the open
An' get him, keep flowin'

We gotta raise our kids while we
Make a off a record, bail my niggaz outta prison
Fuck a or a Lexus, just my boys in the squadder
Nigga talk reckless, I hit 'em with the Smif an'

But I'm never snitchin', I'm a
If my kids hungry, snatch the dishes out ya
I'll be wylin' til they me outta line up

We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap it
Wyle out, fuck niggaz up, about it
I'm not tryin' to the morgue
But Freeway out 'til I sit with the Lord

'Til I get my shit together, clean up my
Freeway got it in 10 in the mornin'
An' I can get it to ya 10 while you yawnin', man

Still the order, man
An' I ain't talkin' 'bout an' gravy, man
I'm talkin' 'bout bricks 'o ye yo, halves an'
4 an' a halves of hash, you do the

Swing past us, scoop up daughter
She wanna roll wit' a thug that rap, you do the
He won't blast my stacks in order

Man, lemme get 'em
Hove never slackin', man, zippin' in the black
than the red ghost, gettin' ghost wit' Pac, man
One time, know a got a to get that change
Leader of the gang, ROC, man

Bang T-Mac, ski mask, air it out
kill witnesses 'cause Free's beard's stickin' out
Y'all don't want no shit, we squeeze hammers, man
breeze by you, like Louisiana, man

But I feed Tianna, man
So I move keys, you can call me the Man
Rain, sleet, hail, snow, man
dough, E, hydro, man

Know B. in the third lane
still prayin', workin' on my nerves, man
Like, "Son you gotta get soul clean
Before they them horns like Coltrane"

But still I cry of a hustler
Wipe tears from my mother, pull out beers for her
That's us, make beds for the babies
Tuck kids under covers, buy for their mothers

Shit, probably be wylin' with their fathers
Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I'm ridin' for her father
That's my brother, like same mother, different father
Any Dog, know I got 'em

An' still we grind the bottom
Just to make it to the bottom, crack in the alleyways
Still gave back 'A Dollar Day'
Real make hood holidays

They ain't thank us but we still homage, man
Soul Food Sunday, like Big Momma's, man
Tell the gang I break my promise, man, man

Even though what we do is
though what we do is wrong