Do What I Do (feat. Z-Ro, Nas & Rick Ross)

I am ghetto, boy, chillin'

Represent for the **** in the hood and how they livin'

Heavy metal concealin'

Hustlin' till you touch a 9 to 5 of drug dealin'

It don't matter how I get it, I got it, fuck feelings

I don't have none, I'm 'bout my paper, ****, ask 'em

Don't get confused on how the cash come

Never, by any means necessary better

Get up off your ass and get my money 'fore I stretch ya

Out in front your doorstep, when I brandish this .45th

You can make arrangements, you a dead man, a ghost, yeah

See, I come from them cuts for real

Much long before this rap came, fuck the deal

I survived the game of life, ****, fuck some skills

Crossin' me, get in the way, this pussy must get killed

I'm alive, he came, he bust till he left

I would have made for sure I was dead, he fucked hisself

Yeah, 'cause now I'm at his ass with a vengeance

Blood in, blood out from the beginning to the ending

Real shit bein' spit, know your limits

It's best you mind your mothafuckin' business

If you ain't in it

So hard in these streets

Gotta pack a pistol, plus talk to God in these streets

Go to church, Sunday, Monday, sellin' raw in these streets

Never took it home though, I left it all in these streets

Gotta do what I gotta do

I ain't promotin', no, eviction notice on the door

Fuck it, I had to go for broke

Do what I gotta do

Hustle till I see the dirt

Riskin' twenty-five years just to see another first

I was all alone, car full of ****

How'd I get here? Car full of hittas

I was rollin' weed, they was snortin' blow

Such a cool breeze, heart so cold

Step up to the plate, where your money at?

Bobby Brown on cake with a hundred packs

New editions, Lisa Lisa

We were secret lovers, had to get a beeper

My Atlantic star, not a Notre Dame

Not a student loan, tried to motivate

Continental, my Bentley, this shit should be illegal

Selassie eye in the ghost, thousand bales of that diesel

Lord, go toe to toe with any pussy boy

Fuck, one time for Face and all the Boobie boys

Twenty-six inch plates on a 68

Where I'm from, a half a key'll set a **** straight

I just wanna make the car notes

Let mama make the pot roast

You should meet me at the car wash

Washin' all eight, that's inshallah

So hard in these streets

Gotta pack a pistol, plus talk to God in these streets

Go to church, Sunday, Monday, sellin' raw in these streets

Never took it home though, I left it all in these streets

Gotta do what I gotta do

I ain't promotin' no eviction notice on the door

Fuck it, I had to go for broke

Do what I gotta do

Hustle till I see the dirt

Riskin' twenty-five years just to see another verse

Speakin' for those tweakin' in them cell blocks, readin'

To blacks, whites and Puerto Ricans

Brothers with those ankle bracelets, impatient for their releasin'

To make it back to the block, the hatred, the present

Time sure flies, look how many years went by

My young **** already need hair dye

Alcoholic faces, women bad as a mug

Gettin' fat as fuck, fried food be addin' up

The system thrives off its victims

They ask how this economic collapse

Can affect people all over the map

Tea party for tax reenactment is whack

The past the past, yo, to my vatos out in the East Los

Nietas on the east coast, shouts to Puerto Rico

Dominican Republic people, rep I

Brown and black, we must get it together

The prison industrial complex a fuckin' set up

The Aztec, Olmec, African settled on this land from the get up

I changed my aim, who I'm gon' wet up

When violence is resorted, knowledge is distorted

Unless it's payback for brutality

I'm more or less with that, get back

So hard in these streets

Gotta pack a pistol plus talk to God in these streets

Go to church, Sunday, Monday, sellin' raw in these streets

Never took it home though, I left it all in these streets

Gotta do what I gotta do

I ain't promotin' no eviction notice on the door

Fuck it, I had to go for broke

Do what I gotta do

Hustle till I see the dirt

Riskin' twenty-five years just to see another verse