Luyện nghe bài hát That's How I'm Livin

I was born in New Jersey, I said it
But I nobody heard me, my mother died young
No sistas or brothas, I was the son
When I was twelve my died too

What a brotha was to do?
They sent me out to live with my aunt
I guess thought it was the best
But there was no love there with no moms

I guess I was prepared to in a vacuum
The bedroom the kitchen, the and the bathroom
I leave home much, didn't like L.A.
Didn't no friends to trust

Got busted to a
Blacks and whites, I the shit was cool
But in high school I
Didn't wanna bust, didn't wanna play the

I walked to Crenshaw high, was fly
I hooked up with a new
Some that knew what the fuck to do
You might call it a gang but we it a set

And it was our own thang, the school was down
And one way or another fucked around
Whether hardcore or not you the right color or your ass got shot
how I'm livin'

I did three in and made close friends
Havin' no love my came my only
I was glad, a I never had
But I grew up fast got a girl on 10th grade

Needin' cash, I had to change my
Switched from bangin' to
No more buck wild had to get a cash flow
But my was weak, it was a no go

I the army, four years in that shit
Be all fucked you can be, came back to the
My homies had done good, had elevated game
100 gees a lick, no mothafuckin' shame

Passed for the
Baby sledgehammers the tools
I on this with a hesitation
Even though it passed the statue of

I checked the
Bought a Porsche and gear, earned high rank
But as I grew my whole crew through
Cops had us on the books as crooks

robbery rape escape, the whole damn nine
You robbed a blind
I had too much juice, I cut my loose
I was with the pimp game

Took on the ice-name but the pimp game moved too
Especially for a nigga who was hooked on dough
In one night I was in a car wreck
And I was to escape

Hospital for ten weeks, in bed almost
And when I got well, I got caught in a
And got locked in a jail
That's how I'm

cut me loose and I had to change troops
This time they didn't me
Next time they'll me
'Cause my was gettin' short

All my was in court
Or locked in a hole, this was gettin' old
So I changed my
Put the gun and picked up the mic

It took ten years to get from to here
But I keep a gun, cops got me on the run
And they hate me more now than ever did before
My homies came back from pen and we all worked

True friends but every once and
punk mistakes me as a junk
And he gets in my face, wrong mothafuckin'
And I ain't lyin', how you dyin'