The first is:
The first is:
1. Leslie Edward Pridgen (born March 24, 1977), better known by his stage name Freeway, is an American rapper. Freeway a.k.a. Philly Freeway began rapping while in high school. He later met fellow rapper Beanie Sigel, who would be signed to Roc-A-Fella and later help Freeway get a contract with the record label. Freeway became one of the label's most visible artists after making his first appearance on The Dynasty: Roc La Familia in 2000 and appearing on several other Roc releases before putting out his solo album, Philadelphia Freeway.
The album was produced primarily by Roc-A-Fella-affiliated artists--Just Blaze, Bink!, Kanye West--and featured mostly Roc-A-Fella rappers as well, many of them from State Property: a Philadelphia-based bunch of Roc members that Freeway and Beanie Sigel had compiled into a group. The album's biggest hit was What We Do, produced by Just Blaze and featuring Jay-Z & Beanie Sigel.
After relations between Beanie Sigel and State Property soured, whether he and Freeway are still friends is unclear. Though Beanie had said he didn't know if he'd work with State Property again, he was present at Jay-Z's I Declare War concert alongside Freeway.
The second is:
2. Freeway are a classic British rock covers band based in York. A five piece playing primarily twin guitar rock music from the classic rock era of the 70s and 80s.
The third is:
3. A 3-piece blues rock band from Australia
What We Do )
Freeway Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
It's that real shit
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 niggaz better bundle up
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 shit
Your kids ain't got no way to eat
We still try to keep Mom smilin'
'cause 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 nigga 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 niggaz outta prison
Fuck a Bentley or a Lexus, just my boys in the squadder
Nigga 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, fuck niggaz 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 shit 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 shit, 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
Shit, 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
Even though what we do is wrong
The lyrics to Freeway's song "What We Do" paint a gritty and bleak picture of life in the hood, where drug dealing is a means of survival and taking care of family is a top priority. Despite acknowledging that what they do is "wrong," the lyrics emphasize the necessity to hustle and make money to provide for loved ones. The lyrics also highlight the constant threat of violence and the need to stay prepared and protect oneself and one's family. The chorus repeats the phrase "even though what we do is wrong," perhaps acknowledging society's condemnation of their actions but ultimately justifying them as necessary for survival.
The lyrics also touch on the systemic issues of police brutality and mass incarceration, as Freeway raps about the police's purpose of locking up Black men and the fact that without drug dealing, kids may not have a way to eat. The lyrics show a deep sense of community and loyalty to one's fellow members of the hood, with Freeway pledging to bail his friends out of prison and take care of their families if necessary. The song ends with a sense of hopelessness and acceptance of the reality of their circumstances, with the lines "even though what we do is wrong" repeated over and over.
Line by Line Meaning
Man, if I get rocked, this shit for my kids, nigga
It's that real shit
I'm doing all this illegal hustle for my kids; it's real, and I'm not messing around
Even though what we do is wrong
I know it's illegal, but we still do it to survive
We still hustle 'til the sun come up
We work hard, day in and day out, to make ends meet
Crack a 40 when the sun go down
Having a drink after a hard day's work to unwind
It's a cold winter, y'all niggaz better bundle up
An' I bet it be a hotter summer, grab a onion
It's cold out here in the streets, so stay warm; summer's gonna be hot, so stock up now
Yes, the ROC gets down, you hot now, listen up
Our crew is serious; pay attention
Don't you know cops' whole purpose is to lock us down?
Police want to arrest us; it's their job to stop criminals like us
An' throw away the key, but without this drug shit
Your kids ain't got no way to eat
If we don't sell drugs, our kids won't have food to eat; it's a harsh reality
We still try to keep Mom smilin'
'cause when the teeth stop showin'
An' the stomach start growlin', then the heat start flowin'
We do what we can to make our loved ones happy and fed; when it comes down to it, we fight to survive
If you from the hood, I know you feel me, keep goin'
If you're from the same tough neighborhood as me, you know what I'm talking about; keep pushing forward
If a sneak start leanin' an' the heat stop workin'
Then my heat start workin', I'ma rob me a person
Catch a nigga sleepin' while he out in the open
An' I'ma get him, keep flowin'
If someone tries to mess with me or disarm me, I'm not afraid to rob them; if I see an opportunity, I'm taking it
We gotta raise our kids while we livin'
Make a million off a record, bail my niggaz outta prison
We need to take care of our families while we're alive; we also aim to make money and help get our friends out of jail
Fuck a Bentley or a Lexus, just my boys in the squadder
Nigga talk reckless, then I hit 'em with the Smif an'
I don't care about fancy cars; I just want to look out for my crew; if someone disses us, I'm not afraid to retaliate with violence if necessary
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
I'm loyal to my gang and won't give them up to the police; if my kids are hungry, I'll do whatever it takes to feed them; I won't back down or give up easily
We keep the nines tucked, chopped dimes up, rap about it
Wyle out, fuck niggaz up, laugh about it
We keep our guns close and sell drugs; it may not be legal, but we rap about it and have fun
I'm not tryin' to visit the morgue
But Freeway move out 'til I sit with the Lord
I don't want to die, but I'm gonna keep hustling until the end; only then will I rest in peace
'Til I get my shit 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
Until I sort my life out and make amends for my wrongdoings, I'll keep hustling; I can get drugs to you at any time of day
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
I still sell drugs, and I'm not talking about food; I sell large quantities of drugs, and you can do the math to figure out the price
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
Picking up drugs from us; if your daughter is interested in hanging out with a rapper drug dealer, you understand the risks; violence won't occur until we have enough money
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
I need to get my hands on some drugs; Jay-Z is always on the move, driving a fast car; he's a skilled hustler; he leads our criminal organization
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 shit, we squeeze hammers, man
Bullets breeze by you, like Louisiana, man
We use guns, wear masks, and don't mess around; if you see me, you're dead; we don't want any witnesses and will shoot at you without hesitation; bullets fly past like they're in a hurricane
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
I need to make money to feed my daughter, so I sell drugs; I can do it in any weather and sell a variety of drugs
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"
I know B. Sige, a member of our gang, and even though my grandfather nags me about cleaning up my act, I need to make money before it's too late
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
I may be a criminal, but I still have emotions and take care of my family; I cry, help my mother and uncles, and even take care of babies by providing cribs and beds
Shit, 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
I'll probably be doing illegal things with their dads, and I'll do anything to protect their families; I'm so close to their father that it's like we're brothers; if there are any issues, I'll handle them
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
We come from the bottom, and we work hard to make a living; we sell drugs in the streets but also give back to our community; we celebrate holidays with the people of our neighborhood
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
People don't appreciate us, but we still show respect to our culture; we have big meals and celebrate like a family; I never break a promise to my gang
Even though what we do is wrong
I know what I'm doing is illegal and morally wrong, but I don't have another way to make money
Even though what we do is wrong
I know what I'm doing is illegal and morally wrong, but I don't have another way to make money
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Written by: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, DWIGHT GRANT, LESLIE PRIDGEN, SKIP SCARBOROUGH, JUSTIN GREGORY SMITH
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@40kkal
2024 Still Blasting This 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
@KimGloverMurrell
Me to
@1Ataya
215 all day!
@mohamedhamisi9766
I'm here men....
@ted.25blu57
That sixers clip brought here. Lady in the green hoodie somebody said. I seen them folk rapping them lyrics like their life depended on it
@scootert35
Can't go too long without bumping this.
@Juicelee777ssj
This is the perfect anthem for anybody who wakes up in the morning with the unbridled determination to do whatever it takes to survive.
@imsodone5737
Feel you bro. For me, it's whatever it is to survive and live the dream. Stay strong
@iquanwilliams4905
Facts we here
@eugenedantzler4485
We have one life to live.... I'm gonna ride it out until the wheels fall off!!!!!!!!! Let's get it fam