| Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids nigga
|
| It’s that real shit…
|
| (female singer, repeated throughout the verses)
|
| We still hustle 'til the sun come up Crack a 40 when the sun go down
|
| It’s a cold winter
|
| Y’all niggaz better bundle up And I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onion
|
| Yes the ROC gets down, you hot now, listen up Don’t you know cops’whole purpose is to lock us down?
|
| And throw away the key
|
| But without this drug shit your kids ain’t got no way to eat, huh?
|
| We still try to keep Mom… smilin'…
|
| Cuz when the teeth stop showin’and the stomach start growlin'
|
| Then the heat start flowin'
|
| If you from the hood I know you feel me (Jay-Z: Keep goin'…)
|
| If a sneak start leanin’and the heat stop workin'
|
| Then my heat start workin’I’m-a rob me a person
|
| Catch a nigga sleepin’while he out in the open… and I’m-a get him (Jay-Z:
|
| Keep flowin'…)
|
| We gotta raise our kids while we livin'
|
| Make a million off-a record bail my niggaz outta prison
|
| Fuck a Bentley or a Lexus just my boys in the squadder
|
| Nigga talk reckless then I hit 'em with the Smif 'n…
|
| But I’m never snitchin’I’m a rider
|
| If my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchen
|
| I’ll be wylin’til they pick me outta line-up…
|
| We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about it Wyle out, fuck niggaz up, laugh about it
|
| I’m not tryin’to visit the morgue but Freeway move out 'til I sit with the Lord
|
| 'Til I… get my shit together, clean up my sins
|
| Freeway got it in like 10 in the mornin'
|
| And I can get it to ya like 10 while you yawnin’mang…
|
| Still deliver the order mang!
|
| And I ain’t talkin’bout chicken and gravy mang!
|
| I’m talkin’bout bricks 'o ye-yo, halves and quarters
|
| 4 and a halves of hash you do the math
|
| Swing past us scoop up your daughter
|
| She wanna roll wit’a thug that rap, you do the math
|
| He won’t blast 'til my stacks in order mang!
|
| …MANG! |
| Lemme get 'em Free
|
| Hove never slackin’mang, zippin’in the black Range
|
| Faster than the red ghost, gettin’ghost wit’Pac-Mang
|
| One-time know a got a knack to get that change
|
| Leader of the black gang, R-O-C mang
|
| Bang like T-Mac, ski mask air it out
|
| Gotta kill witnesses 'cause Free’s beard’s stickin’out
|
| Y’all don’t want no witness shit, we squeeze hammers mang
|
| Bullets breeze by you, like Lousiana mang…
|
| But I gotta feed Tianna mang…
|
| So I move keys you can call me the Piano Man
|
| Rain… sleet, hail… snow man
|
| Slang dough, E, hydro man…
|
| …no, B. Sige in the third lane
|
| Gramps still prayin’workin on my nerves man…
|
| Like, Son you gotta get your soul clean…
|
| Before they blow them horns like Coltrane…
|
| But still I cry tears of a hustler
|
| Wipe tears from my mother, pull out beers for her brothers…
|
| That’s above us, make beds for the babies
|
| Tuck kids under covers, buy cribs for their mothers
|
| Shit I’ll probably be wylin’with their fathers
|
| Tell Ms. Robert, tell Enijah that I’m ridin’for her father
|
| That’s like my brother, like same mother different father
|
| Any problems dog know I got 'em
|
| And still we grind from the bottom
|
| Just to make it to the bottom sold crack in the alleyways
|
| Still gave back Marcy a Dollar Day
|
| Real gangstas make hood holidays
|
| They ain’t thank us but we still paid homage mang
|
| Soul Food Sunday lookin’like Big Momma’s mang
|
| Tell the gang I never break my promise mang… mang…unnh! |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song What We Do, artist - Freeway. Album song Philadelphia Freeway, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп