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letra de we do this passion - daz dillinger

you see my homies is k!llas..
(k!ll, k!ll, k!ll, murder, murder, murder, murder)
(k!ll, k!ll, k!ll, murder, murder, murder, murder)
(k!ll, k!ll, k!ll, murder, murder, murder, murder)..

[daz dillinger]
see if you come my way, i roll with tec-9’s, ak’s
murder machines, for where i hang and stay
obey the laws of the street, ‘fore yo’ b-tch -ss get beat
and i’m hoein’ and i’m only out to rob and cheat
get your pistols and rags, n-gga prepare to blast
it ain’t no questions or discussion, get the dope and the cash
we came up quick, plottin’ on real b-tch sh-t
three-hundred and fifty g’s, three n-ggas was split
flippin’ and servin’ chickens
any dirty work – i was down with it
a true soldier and i stay committed

[chorus]
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you better get your strap cause when i see you we blastin’
and when we run up on you ain’t gon’ be no askin’
cause me and my homies we just straight out blast

[daz dillinger]
i guess the war’s on, get your soldiers and let’s go to war
put in work death row – even the score
mini machine guns, grenades, and forty-fives
we crazy in the land where it’s hard to survive
catchin’ n-ggas slippin’ if you’re bloodin’ or crippin’
on a mission blastin’ n-ggas if you all wit it
you see we bang for a livin’, use the gun
drugs and prison, n-ggas doin’ h-lla time
roll with these scandalous n-ggas
back looped out, smoked out
hit another one, i’m bombed out, smoked out
so we load and swerve in the gl-ss house and we roll the street
my brand n-ggas run up on you so we pull up the heat
i said “what’s up?”… he replied with the wrong set
it’s my duty and my job to put this n-gga to rest
boom, boom – shots from the tec rain out
another wrong n-gga dead, that’s what i’m talkin’ about
n-ggas yell my name out and say they gon’ k!ll me
i ain’t worried ’bout a thang, y’all n-ggas can’t k!ll me!

[daz dillinger]
i kick off the war, with a calibur fo’- fo’
knockin’ down doors and n-ggas wonder what i came for
jumpin’ out of buckets, dumpin’ on them brand motherf-ckers
who claim for the fame, puttin’ somethin’ up in you bustas
looped out, feelin’ good no doubt
with a tec ready to put some motherf-ckin’ heads out
servin’ fools, pull around the corner
slow down and jump out, to show you what i’m all about
i’m yellin’ “f-ck you n-gga!” and i hope you die
showin’ y’all n-ggas how real gangstas ride
come up workin’ for birds early, busta young died early
ridin’ dirty with a gauge underage
had to drop off the pump, that’s when the real sh-t start
y’all b-tch -ss n-ggas ain’t got heart, y’all cowards
we give it up, inject pain on n-ggas and conversate with the trigger
blast, escape, then get to dippin’
set trippin’s like an everyday thang, where we hang
still tha gang, where we blast to maintain at close range
ak’s, 357’s, and tec’s – all kind of sh-t
catch you n-ggas slippin’ because we crippin’ on the set
willin’, looped out, your homie just got out
dogg pound ’bout to take you n-ggas out

[chorus]
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
(you see my homies is k!llas)
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion
you see my homies is k!llas and we do this for p-ssion

- daz dillinger

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