[Freeway] 
 
Man if I get rocked, this shit for my kids nigga 
It's that real shit... 
 
[female singer, repeated throughout the verses] 
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 
And 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? 
And throw away the key 
But without this drug shit your kids ain't got no way to eat, huh? 
We still try to keep Mom...smilin'... 
Cuz when the teeth stop showin' and the stomach start growlin' 
Then the heat start flowin' 
If you from the hood I know you feel me ([Jay-Z:] Keep goin'...) 
If a sneak start leanin' and the heat stop workin' 
Then my heat start workin' I'm-a rob me a person 
Catch a nigga sleepin' 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 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 'n... 
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' 
And I can get it to ya like 10 while you yawnin' mang... 
Still deliver the order mang! 
And I ain't talkin' bout chicken and gravy mang! 
I'm talkin' bout bricks 'o ye-yo, halves and quarters 
4 and 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 mang! 
 
[Jay-Z] 
...MANG! Lemme get 'em Free 
Hove never slackin' mang, zippin' in the black Range 
Faster than the red ghost, gettin' ghost wit' Pac-Mang 
One-time know a 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 stickin' 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 dough, E, hydro man... 
 
[Beanie Sigel] 
...no, 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 
And 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 mang 
Soul Food Sunday lookin' like Big Momma's mang 
Tell the gang I never break my promise mang...mang...unnh!