Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Livin the Life, artist - Mac Dre. Album song The Best Of Mac Dre II, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.11.2004
Record label: Thizz Nation
Song language: English
Livin the Life |
Up in this muthafucka trippin', man |
Thinkin' about how it was |
Back in the days, you know |
Beat soundin' kinda cool, feelin' kinda cool |
Let gon' and do somethin' to this though |
Check it out |
Once upon a time, my nine stayed in the small of my back |
I sold crack and drove a Cadillac |
Shot craps, made snaps on the corner by the stop sign |
Strapped with my ‘gnac, dank sack and my Glock nine |
Kickin' it with the homies on the grind for cabbage |
A Double-R soldier, 3C savage |
Runnin' from the ones with the nightsticks |
High-speed chasin' and racin' in tight shit |
Back in '85 selling goop was the shit |
Wasn’t a thing that them fiends wouldn’t do for a hit |
Bitches suck dick, niggas rented they cars |
While young players like me became street stars |
Glued to the track with a sack and a handgun |
Steady sweatin' sales, stoppin' cars at random |
Runnin' from the 50, hittin' fences and hidin' out |
Seven cars deep is how the homies is ridin' out |
House parties pop, stayed packed with hoodrats |
Niggas on the mic, drunk, bustin' them hood raps |
Hooked on the dank, Thunderbird we drank |
Rollin' in the bucket with the fucked up paint |
24−7 on the hunt for coochie |
Sportin' Troop, Nikes, Fila, and Gucci |
Makin' much money on the dope track |
But when the crack slacked then niggas started to jack |
Every young nigga tryna stay in the mix |
Was breakin' them tricks and cold hittin' a lick |
Jackin' became the quickest way to make some mail |
But some niggas fell and spent years in jail |
Droppin' nine in the pen tryna make they chest bigger |
Some niggas died gettin' jacked by the next nigga |
But that’s the way it goes, you pay the price |
When you’re deep in the game, and you’re livin' that life |
Everybody wants a little something |
(When you’re livin' that life) |
Cool but you got to give it all |
(When you’re livin' that life) |
‘Cause everything in life has a price you’re… |
(When you’re livin' that life) |
Livin' the life, livin' the life, livin' the life, oh |
I was against all odds, fresh out the womb |
My only hope was to soak game, so I consume |
While niggas chilled and parlayed, I learned the hard way |
Scuffed and roughed up, the game had scarred Dre |
Back in the days, all I knew was the hood and rocks |
Lookin' for funk and headed straight for a wooden box |
Prone to quick cash and gettin' the grit fast |
Never really trippin' on how long would shit last |
Earnin' my ghetto stripes from scraps and ghetto fights |
Fuckin' with hoodrats, them tramps and ghetto types |
Never givin' a fuck, nah, not even sometimes |
Just havin' a fun time, runnin' from one-time |
Trippin', and wasn’t even peepin' the shit |
Slippin', and steady gettin' deep into shit |
I let the game control me, shape and mold me |
Then it treated me coldly, it pimped and hoed me |
I was sellin' the crack but not stackin' a damn thang |
And now that I look back, man it’s a damn shame |
Couldn’t recognize there was game to peep |
The dank had me gone and my brain is sleep |
I finally woke up in the federal pen |
Broke than a muthafucka beggin' for ends |
I was a midget, a small digit… forgotten |
Game was stale, my name was rotten |
Had life by the ass, my shit was twisted |
I thought about the hood and how much I missed it |
But the life I was livin' wasn’t really shit |
I was clockin' them ends but wasn’t stackin' a grip |
They had the world thinkin' I was runnin' in vaults |
I reassessed my thoughts, and proved my faults |
And for the next four years, I kicked and waited |
Becoming top notch while incarcerated |
But that’s the way it goes, you pay the price |
When you’re deep in the game, and you’re livin' that life |
Livin' that life |
Growin' up in the hood, slangin' that cocaine |
Fuckin' with them hoochies |
Runnin' from the rollers |
Goin' to juvenile hall, county jail, penitentiary |
All that shit |
But you gotta pay the price, when you’re livin' that life |
If you’re soft, homeboy, think twice |
It ain’t nuthin' nice |
Got my boy Khayree up in here, man |
We just doin' this shit |