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

I was in New Jersey, I said it before
But I guess nobody heard me, my mother 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 West to with my aunt
I they thought it was the best
But there was no love there with no moms

I guess I was to live in a vacuum
The the kitchen, the hall and the bathroom
I didn't home much, didn't like L.A.
have no friends to trust

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

I to Crenshaw high, shit was fly
I hooked up a new crew
Some brothas that knew 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 everybody around
Whether hardcore or not you wore the color or your ass got shot
how I'm livin'

I did three years in and made friends
Havin' no love my homies my only
I was glad, a family I had
But I grew up fast got a girl on 10th grade

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

I join the army, years in that shit
Be all fucked you can be, came to the hood
My had done good, had elevated their game
About 100 a lick, no mothafuckin' shame

Passed for the
sledgehammers were the tools
I speak on with a hesitation
Even though it passed the of limitation

I the bank
Bought a Porsche and gear, earned high rank
But as I my whole crew fell through
Cops had us on the books as interstate

Murder robbery escape, the whole damn nine
You robbed a nigga
I had too much juice, I cut my boosters
I was intreagued the pimp game

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

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

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

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

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

True friends but every once and
Some punk me as a junk
And he gets in my face, mothafuckin' place
And I lyin', that's how you dyin'