| Ay, check this out, right, who we got in here, cuddie?
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| We got the Romper muthafuckin' Room in this muthafucka
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| Crew Thang and the Five-Trey-Fizzive
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| Strictly SES, straight from the muthafuckin' Crest
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| That’s right. |
| Mac muthafuckin' Dre is in this
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| Coolio, you know, Da’Unda’Dogg
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| That’s right. |
| Mac muthafuckin' Mall
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| And the Sugawolf Pizzimp
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| Not the pimp… what about PSD a/k/a Stevie D, bitch
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| Oh, y’all didn’t know?
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| This is what we do…
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| My lyrical flow got me dwellin' up on the past
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| Servin' ‘em on that ass, gettin' my cash, comin' up fast
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| And’ll blast you in a minute, drama, quick to jump up in it
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| So end it ‘fore you begin it ‘cause I’m down to represent it
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| And’ll send you higher to your Messiah once I open fire
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| At your own desire I’ll flat you like a tire
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| Wire me a kite if you full of fright, that electric sight
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| Ain’t no joke, niggas be comin' up short thinkin' they gonna fight
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| Talkin' about that weed, servin ‘em sacks of indo; |
| what you need?
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| All of my homies keyed, niggas free from the life of greed
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| Twisted up on the mixes, won’t you fix us niggas somethin' to drank
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| Can’t get enough dizank up out the bizank, got put in my tank
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| Bitches be wantin' my riches and they bitches, man, be jockin' my switches
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| Pullin' around my riches which is cool
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| Because I get ‘em, and then I hit ‘em
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| You see this what we do when we doin' what we do
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| She wants to get married but I ain’t and I cain’t
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| ‘Cause I’m sprung on my muthafuckin' dank and some drank
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| I got a fat bank, huh, and still break hoes
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| And if your bitch gets to jockin', I will break yours
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| The Mac named Dre from the C-R-E-S-T
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| Ask about a nigga and they all would say ‘Yes, he’s the shizit'
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| I gizit, much pussy on my dizick
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| Never would I lizick or pay like a trizick
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| I’m like that, potna, I thought you heard
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| Fuckin' with your brain like some Thunderbird
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| I’m doper than a joint of that potent dank
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| And funky like the county jail holding tank
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| Romper, Room, crew for life
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| If I thrust ya once, hoe, I’mma thrust ya twice
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| What is I’m sayin' on this microphone
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| I get Romped out when my mic is on
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| I make the Statue of Liberty get freaky
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| Scoot her panties over, play with her pussy
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| Make her pay me to jook me
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| Playa playa, oh hell yeah, motive be to skeet her
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| Menage a trois, you, her and I, bubble while you G her, yeah
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| A Crew Thang nigga keepin' it real
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| Up against it with my protégés reachin' for mills
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| We puts the pussy-whip in ill fashion
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| And bend a corner hella squatted with that skrill flashin'
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| (What you squattin'?) A Mitsubishi, 2-triple-zero GT
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| VR 4, Nike shoe to the floor
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| If it’s not relatable to dollars I can’t holla
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| Tryna prosper, turnin' down nothin' but collars
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| That’s what we wantin', hutch, I strut with a limp
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| Through the party off Bacardi with the Shug’Wolf Pimp, ugh
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| PS to TS, Country Club Creezest
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| We just gon' tear the roof off this bitch
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| Now it’s the hog in your dog speakin' once more
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| Crestsidin' through the door, and pimp a hoe more
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| Than them hoes they be frozen, jockin' on a player
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| Hollerin' ‘Pimp ‘til I die, runnin' game like the mayor'
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| Extreme heavy hustler, stack a chip fiend
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| In the game of the big dogs, mutts and the fleas
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| But G’s like me, we pimp and don’t slack
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| Stack G’s for my neez, fetti fiend for the scratch
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| Bitch, I’m hustlin' hard
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| So now they wanna put the Mac down and bogard
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| But I won’t let ‘em, known to sweat ‘em for the green when I mack
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| ‘Cause I hound dog hoes and sho' won’t slack
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| It’s SugaWolf Pimp in me
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| Nothin' but the muthafuckin' Mark Street G
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| Servin' this game like a thang of the ‘caine somethin' serious
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| Comin' like dick, mayne, flowin' like a period
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| 1:40 in the morning, Brougham reekin' of the rope, see
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| All my cuddies high and so am I so peep game I be bold
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| These hoes is on some muthafuckin' alien shit
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| But me and Kill-a-Hoe won’t peel a hoe, push her off a cliff
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| Ripped off Hennessy, trick bitch, I’ll slap ya head off
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| And if your nigga move, Crestsiders gon' dump that lead off
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| Your man is a midget, he like to floss and trick bread off
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| But hoe I’m from the North and fa sho' you gotta get off
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| See I’m a third generation Mac
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| I like my hoes hella thick like the trunk on my Cadillac
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| But bitches on me like Prozac
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| Oh, you didn’t know that little hoe was sessed out like that?
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| Bitch, I thought you knew
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| Comin' straight from the Crest, this is what we do |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What We Do , by - Mac Dre. Song from the album The Rompalation, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп