What We Do Lyrics

Ft: Beanie Sigel & Jay Z
Produced By: Just Blaze


You pyonged “Freeway – What We Do”

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[Intro: Freeway]
Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids nigga
It's that real shit

*Even though what we do is wrong...*

[Verse 1: Freeway]
We still hustle 'til the sun come up
Crack a 40 when the sun go down
It's a cold winter
Y'all niggas better bundle up
And I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onion
And throw away the key
We still try to keep Mom...smilin'
Then the heat start flowin'

If you from the hood I know you feel me (Jay-Z: Keep goin'...)
If a sneak start leaning and the heat stop workin'
Then my heat start
working I'm a rob me a person
Catch a nigga sleeping 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 niggas outta prison
Fuck a Bentley or a Lexus just my boys in the squadder
But I'm never snitching I'm a rider
If my kids hungry snatch the dishes out ya kitchen
I'll be wilding til they pick me outta line-up
Wild out, fuck niggas up, laugh about it

Freeway got it in like 10 in the morning
Still deliver the order mang!
And I ain't talking bout chicken and gravy
4 and a halves of hash you do the math
Swing past us scoop up your daughter
He gone blast 'til my stacks in order mang!

...MANG! Lemme get 'em Free
Hov never slackin mang, zippin in the black Range
One-time know I 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 sticking 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 dope, E, hydro man

[Beanie Sigel]
You know B. Sige in the third lane
Gramps still praying, working 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 wilding with their fathers
That's like my brother, like same mother different father
Any problems dog know I got 'em

And still we grind from the bottom
Still gave back Marcy on Dollar Day
Real gangstas make hood holidays
They ain't thank us but we still paid homage mang
Soul Food Sunday looking like Big Momma's mang
