Luyện nghe bài hát What We Do

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

Even though we do is wrong

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

Yes, the ROC down, you hot now, listen up
you know cops' whole purpose is to lock us down?
An' throw away the key, but this drug shit
Your kids got no way to eat

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

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

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

But I'm snitchin', I'm a rider
If my kids hungry, snatch the dishes out ya
I'll be wylin' til they me outta line up

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

'Til I get my shit together, up my sins
got it in like 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, up your daughter
She wanna roll wit' a thug that rap, you do the
He blast 'til my stacks in order

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

like T-Mac, ski mask, air it out
Gotta kill witnesses Free's beard's stickin' out
Y'all don't want no witness shit, we hammers, man
Bullets 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. Sige in the third
still prayin', workin' on my nerves, man
Like, "Son you gotta get your soul
Before they them horns like Coltrane"

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

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

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

They ain't us but we still paid homage, man
Soul Food Sunday, lookin' 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