Luyện nghe bài hát What We Do

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

Even what we do is wrong

We still 'til 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 hotter summer, grab a

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Til I get my shit together, clean up my
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 'bout chicken an' gravy, man
I'm 'bout bricks 'o ye yo, halves an' quarters
4 an' a of hash, you do the math

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

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

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

But I gotta 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 lane
still prayin', workin' on my nerves, man
Like, "Son you get your soul clean
Before they blow horns like Coltrane"

But still I cry tears of a
Wipe from my mother, pull out beers for her brothers
That's above us, make beds for the
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
like my brother, like same mother, different father
Any Dog, know I got 'em

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

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