Rick Ross - Do What I Do lyrics

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Rick Ross - Do What I Do lyrics

[Verse 1: Scarface] I am ghetto, boy, chillin' Represent for the n***as in the hood and how they livin' Heavy metal concealin' Hustlin' 'til you touch a 9 to 5 of drug dealin' It don't matter how I get it, I got it, f** feelings I don't have none, I'm 'bout my paper, n***a, ask 'em Don't get confused on how the cash come Never, by any means necessary better Get up off your a** and get my money 'fore I stretch yah Out in front your doorstep, when I brandish this .45th You can make arrangements, you a dead man, a ghost See I come from them cuts for real Much long before this rap came, f** the deal I survived the game of life, n***a, f** some sk**s Crossin' me, get in the way, this p**y must get k**ed I'm alive, he came, he bust 'til he left I would have made for sure I was dead and f** yourself Yeah, cause now I'm at his a** with a vengeance Blood in, blood out from the beginning to the ending Real sh** bein' spit, know your limits It's best you mind your mothaf**in' business If you ain't in it [Hook: Z-Ro] 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 f** it, I had to go for broke Do what I gotta do Hustle 'til I see the dirt Riskin' 25 years just to see another first [Verse 2: Rick Ross] I was all alone, car full of n***as 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 sh** should be illegal Sela**ie eye in the ghost, thousand bales of that diesel Lord, go toe to toe with any p**y boy f**, one time for facin' all the b**bie boys 26 inch plates on a 68 Where I'm from a half a key'll set a n***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 8, that's inshallah [Hook: Z-Ro] 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 f** it, I had to go for broke Do what I gotta do Hustle 'til I see the dirt Riskin' 25 years just to see another verse [Verse 3: Nas] Speakin' for those squeakin' 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 n***as already need hair dye Alcoholic faces, women bad as a mug Gettin' fat as f** 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 f**in' set up The Aztec, almac, 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 [Hook: Z-Ro] 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 f** it, I had to go for broke Do what I gotta do Hustle 'til I see the dirt Riskin' 25 years just to see another verse