paroles de chanson What We Do - Beanie Sigel , Freeway , Jay-Z
Man,
if
I
get
rocked,
this
s-
for
my
kids,
n-
It's
that
real
s-
Even
though
what
we
do
is
wrong
We
still
hustle
'til
the
sun
come
up
Crack
a
40
when
the
sun
go
down
It's
a
cold
winter,
y'all
n-
better
bundle
up
An'
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?
An'
throw
away
the
key,
but
without
this
drug
s-
Your
kids
ain't
got
no
way
to
eat
We
still
try
to
keep
Mom
smilin'
'Cuz
when
the
teeth
stop
showin'
An'
the
stomach
start
growlin',
then
the
heat
start
flowin'
If
you
from
the
hood,
I
know
you
feel
me,
keep
goin'
If
a
sneak
start
leanin'
an'
the
heat
stop
workin'
Then
my
heat
start
workin',
I'ma
rob
me
a
person
Catch
a
n-
sleepin'
while
he
out
in
the
open
An'
I'ma
get
him,
keep
flowin'
We
gotta
raise
our
kids
while
we
livin'
Make
a
million
off
a
record,
bail
my
n-
outta
prison
F-
a
Bentley
or
a
Lexus,
just
my
boys
in
the
squadder
N-
talk
reckless,
then
I
hit
'em
with
the
Smif
an'
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,
f-
n-
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
s-
together,
clean
up
my
sins
Freeway
got
it
in
like
10
in
the
mornin'
An'
I
can
get
it
to
ya
like
10
while
you
yawnin',
man
Still
deliver
the
order,
man
An'
I
ain't
talkin'
'bout
chicken
an'
gravy,
man
I'm
talkin'
'bout
bricks
'o
ye
yo,
halves
an'
quarters
4 an'
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
Man,
lemme
get
'em
Free
Hove
never
slackin',
man,
zippin'
in
the
black
Range
Faster
than
the
red
ghost,
gettin'
ghost
wit'
Pac,
man
One
time,
know
a
got
a
knack
to
get
that
change
Leader
of
the
black
gang,
ROC,
man
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
s-,
we
squeeze
hammers,
man
Bullets
breeze
by
you,
like
Louisiana,
man
But
I
gotta
feed
Tianna,
man
So
I
move
keys,
you
can
call
me
the
Piano
Man
Rain,
sleet,
hail,
snow,
man
Slang
dough,
E,
hydro,
man
Know
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
S-,
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
An'
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,
man
Soul
Food
Sunday,
lookin'
like
Big
Momma's,
man
Tell
the
gang
I
never
break
my
promise,
man,
man
Even
though
what
we
do
is
wrong
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