Artist: Scarface f/ Nas, Rick Ross, Z-Ro Album: Deeply Rooted Song: Do What I Do Typed by: Lil Hustle [Scarface] I am ghetto boy chilling Represent for the niggaz in the hood and how they living, heavy metal concealing Hustle until you touch it, 9 to 5 or drug dealing It don't matter how I get it I got it, fuck feelings I don't have none, I'm bout my paper nigga as come 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 4-5th You can make arrangements, you a dead man a ghost yep See I come from them cuts, for real Not along before this rap came, fuck the deal I survived the game of life, nigga fuck some skills Crossing me in any way, this pussy must get killed I'm alive, and can't eat bust till you left I woulda made for sho' I was dead, he fucked his self Yeah, cause now I'm at his ass with a vengeance Blood in blood out, from the beginning till the ending Real shit being spit, know your limits It's best, you mind your motherfucking bid'ness if you ain't in it [Chorus: Z-Ro] So hard in these streets Gotta pack a pistol, plus talk to God in these streets Go to church Sunday, Monday selling raw in these streets Never took it home, no I left it all in these streets Gotta do, what I gotta do I ain't promoting no addiction notice on the do', fuck it I had to go for broke Do what I gotta do, hustle till I see the dirt Risking 25 years, just to see another first [Rick Ross] I was all alone, car full of niggaz How'd I get here, car full of hitters I was rolling weed, they was snorting 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 Edition's, Lisa Lisa We was secret lovers, had to get a beeper My Atlantic star, not a Notre Dame Not a Stu Long, time to motivate Continental my Bentley, this shit should be illegal Salesian the ghost, thousand bells of that diesel Go toe to toe, with any pussy boy One time for Face, and all the moving boards 26 inch plates, on a '68 Where I'm from, a half a key'll set a nigga straight I just wanna make the car notes Let mama, make the pot roast You should meet me, at the car wash Washing all eight, that's a sha-la [Chorus] [Nas] Speaking for those tweaking, in them cell blocks reading To blacks, whites and Puerto Ricans Brothers with those ankle bracelets impatient, for they releasing To make it back to the block, the hatred the priest sent Time sure flies, look how many years went by My young niggaz, already need hair dye Alcoholic faces, women bad as a mug Getting fat as fuck, fried food be adding up The system thrives off it's victims, they add to how this economic collapse Can effect 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 Nietos on the East Coast, shouts to Puerto Rico Dominican Republic people, weppa Brown and black, we must get it together The prison industrial complex, a fucking set up The ass tat on that 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 less with that get back [Chorus]