Luyện nghe bài hát What We Do

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

Even though what we do is

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

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

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

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

We gotta our kids while we livin'
Make a million off a record, bail my niggaz outta
Fuck a Bentley or a Lexus, just my in the squadder
Nigga talk reckless, then I hit 'em the Smif an'

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

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

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

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

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

Man, get 'em Free
Hove slackin', man, zippin' in the black Range
Faster than the red ghost, ghost wit' Pac, man
One time, know a got a knack to get change
Leader of the gang, ROC, man

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

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

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

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

Shit, I'll probably be wylin' with their
Tell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah I'm ridin' for her father
That's like my brother, like mother, different father
Any problems? Dog, I got 'em

An' we grind from the bottom
Just to make it to the bottom, sold crack in the
Still gave Marcy 'A Dollar Day'
Real gangstas hood holidays

They ain't thank us but we paid homage, man
Soul Food Sunday, like Big Momma's, man
Tell the gang I never my promise, man, man

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