This is a song about "Livin in the suberbs"

Wake up in your livin' room, calm, relaxed, gin and juice,

We in control, the people know i speak the truth

Trust nobody is the motto that i'm livin in

My position improving, not to mention

To livin in a house with food my stomach

I got class and can't take this bitch to math, what

When bret hart meet brett farve

Livin the fast life, in fast cars

Everyday livin in hell and god is my witness

Next month i want that plus, money long as your tour bus

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done

Livin like i lived in rome, do it like the romans, yo bitch is my trojan

And all these bitches that i hung with ain’t doing too well

Shit i'm livin' is real, grew up in straight hell