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letra de livin that life (remix) - mac dre

[verse 1: mac dre]
once upon a time, my 9 stayed in the small of my back
i sold crack and drove a cadillac (cadillac)
shot cr-ps, made snaps on the corner by the stop sign
strapped with my ‘gnac, dank sack and my glock 9
kickin’ it with the homies on the grind for cabbage (grind for cabbage)
a double-r soldier, 3c savage (3c savage)
runnin’ from the ones with the nightsticks
high-speed chasin’ and racin’ in tight sh-t (tight sh-t)
back in ’85 sellin’ goop was the sh-t (goop was the sh-t)
wasn’t a thing that them fiends wouldn’t do for a hit (do for a hit)
b-tches sucked d-ck, n-ggas rented they cars
while young players like me became street stars (street stars)
glued to the track with a sack and a handgun
steady sweatin’ sales, stoppin’ cars at random (random)
runnin’ from the 50, hittin’ fences and hidin’ out
seven cars deep is how the homies is ridin’ out
(that’s how we was ridin’ out)
house parties pop, stayed packed with hoodrats (hoodrats)
n-ggas on the mic, drunk, bustin’ them hood raps (hood raps)
hooked on the dank, thunderbird we drank
rollin’ in the bucket with the f-cked up paint (f-cked up paint)
24/7 on the hunt for coochie
sportin’ troop, nikes, fila, and gucci (gucci)
makin’ much money on the dope track
but when the crack slacked then n-ggas started to jack (n-ggas started to jack)
every young n-gga tryna stay in the mix (stay in the mix)
was breakin’ them tricks and cold hittin’ them l!cks
jackin’ became the quickest way to make some mail (make the mail)
but some n-ggas fell and spent years in jail (years in jail)
droppin’ nine in the pen tryna make they chest bigger
some n-ggas died gettin’ jacked by the next n-gga
but that’s the way it goes, you pay the price
when you’re deep in the game (deep in the game), and you’re livin’ that life
[verse 2: mac dre]
i was against all odds, fresh out the womb
my only hope was to soak game, so i consume
while n-ggas chilled and parlayed, i learned the hard way (hard way)
scuffed and roughed up, the game had scarred dre
back in the days, all i knew was the hood and rocks (that’s all i know)
lookin’ for funk and headed straight for a wooden box (straight for a wooden box)
pr-ne to quick cash and gettin’ the grit fast
never really trippin’ on how long would sh-t last
earnin’ my ghetto stripes from scr-ps and ghetto fights
f-ckin’ with hoodrats, them tramps and ghetto types (ghetto types)
never givin’ a f-ck, nah, not even sometimes
just havin’ a fun time, runnin’ from one-time
trippin’, and wasn’t even peepin’ the sh-t (peepin’ the sh-t)
slippin’, and steady gettin’ deep in the sh-t (deep in the sh-t)
i let the game control me, shape and mold me
then it treated me coldly, it pimped and hoed me (pimped and hoed me)
i was sellin’ the crack but not stackin’ a d-mn thang
and now that i look back, man, it’s a d-mn shame (man, it’s a d-mn shame)
couldn’t recognize there was game to peep (game to peep)
the dank had me gone and my brain is sleep (brain is sleep)
i finally woke up in the federal pen
broke than a motherf-cker beggin’ for ends (beggin’ for ends)
i was a midget, a small digit — forgotten
game was stale, my name was rotten
had life by the ass, my sh-t was twisted
i thought about the hood and how much i missed it
but the life i was livin’ wasn’t really sh-t (really sh-t)
i was clockin’ them ends but wasn’t stackin’ a grip (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
becomin’ top notch while incarcerated
but that’s the way it goes, you pay the price
when you’re deep in the game (deep in the game), and you’re livin’ that life

- mac dre

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