| See if you come my way, I roll with tec-9's, AK’s
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| Murder machines, for where I hang and stay
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| Obey the laws of the street, 'fore yo' bitch ass get beat
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| And I’m hoein' and I’m only out to rob and cheat
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| Get your pistols and rags, nigga prepare to blast
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| It ain’t no questions or discussion, get the dope and the cash
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| We came up quick, plottin' on real bitch shit
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| Three-hundred and fifty G’s, three niggas was split
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| Flippin' and servin' chickens
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| Any dirty work — I was down with it
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| A true soldier and I stay committed
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You better get your strap cause when I see you we blastin'
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| And when we run up on you ain’t gon' be no askin'
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| Cause me and my homies we just straight out blast
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| I guess the war’s on, get your soldiers and let’s go to war
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| Put in work Death Row — even the score
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| Mini machine guns, grenades, and forty-fives
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| We crazy in the land where it’s hard to survive
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| Catchin' niggas slippin' if you’re Bloodin' or Crippin'
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| On a mission blastin' niggas if you all wit it
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| You see we bang for a livin', use the gun
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| Drugs and prison, niggas doin' hella time
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| Roll with these scandalous niggas
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| Back looped out, smoked out
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| Hit another one, I’m bombed out, smoked out
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| So we load and swerve in the glass house and we roll the street
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| My brand niggas run up on you so we pull up the heat
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| I said «What's up?»… he replied with the wrong set
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| It’s my duty and my job to put this nigga to rest
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| Boom, boom — shots from the tec rain out
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| Another wrong nigga dead, that’s what I’m talkin' about
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| Niggas yell my name out and say they gon' kill me
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| I ain’t worried 'bout a thang, y’all niggas can’t kill me!
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You better get your strap cause when I see you we blastin'
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| And when we run up on you ain’t gon' be no askin'
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| Cause me and my homies we just straight out blast
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| I kick off the war, with a calibur fo'- fo'
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| Knockin' down doors and niggas wonder what I came for
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| Jumpin' out of buckets, dumpin' on them brand motherfuckers
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| Who claim for the fame, puttin' somethin' up in you bustas
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| Looped out, feelin' good no doubt
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| With a tec ready to put some motherfuckin' heads out
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| Servin' fools, pull around the corner
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| Slow down and jump out, to show you what I’m all about
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| I’m yellin' «Fuck you nigga!» |
| and I hope you die
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| Showin' y’all niggas how real gangstas ride
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| Come up workin' for birds early, busta young died early
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| Ridin' dirty with a gauge underage
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| Had to drop off the pump, that’s when the real shit start
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| Y’all bitch ass niggas ain’t got heart, y’all cowards
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| We give it up, inject pain on niggas and conversate with the trigger
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| Blast, escape, then get to dippin'
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| Set trippin’s like an everyday thang, where we hang
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| Still Tha Gang, where we blast to maintain at close range
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| AK’s, 357's, and tec’s — all kind of shit
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| Catch you niggas slippin' because we Crippin' on the set
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| Willin', looped out, your homie just got out
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| Dogg Pound 'bout to take you niggas out
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| (You see my homies is killas)
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion
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| You see my homies is killas and we do this for passion |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song We Do This Passion , by - Daz Dillinger. Song from the album This Is The Life I Lead, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп