Luyện nghe bài hát What We Do

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

Even though we do is wrong

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

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

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

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

We gotta raise our kids we livin'
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 snitchin', I'm a rider
If my hungry, snatch the dishes out ya kitchen
I'll be wylin' til pick me outta line up

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

'Til I get my shit together, up my sins
Freeway got it in like 10 in the
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' bricks 'o ye yo, halves an' quarters
4 an' a halves of hash, you do the

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

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

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

But I feed Tianna, man
So I move keys, you can 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 soul clean
they blow them horns like Coltrane"

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

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

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

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

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