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Текст (слова) песни: Lil` Rob - California

[Lil` Rob Talking]
Southern California
Home of low-ridin`
Gang-bangin` and shit
California

[Chorus](Lil` Rob)
I was raised in the streets of California
(Southern California, home of car-hoppin` and
bomb-droppin`
West coast pop lockin`, walkin` how we`re talkin`)
I was raised in the streets of California
(I was raised in Californ-I-A
Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say)

[Verse 1]
I`ve always been down with hydros
And cholos, the low-lows
The six-threes, the six-fours
The rucas with no clothes
Used to drop the two-door
Gang-bang in a four door
Puttin` bullet holes
In the doors of a Ford Explorer
Hard-core, and I got more and more
Where that came from?
Welcome to my kingdom
The streets are my freedom
I need em`, I feed em`, I feedback
They need that, like I need my weed sack
Take a toque, wacha
Where were we at?
Oh, California the golden state
Controllin` states, pushin` weight
Where vatos like me hallucinate
Double up while you fumble up
Fuckin` up, you fuckin` punk
If there`s no room
Then we`ll stick em` by the fuckin` pump

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
Slippin` and dippin`, grippin` the wheel
Lockin` it up
Dump the back corner
Pop the front one up
Put the convertable top down
It`s too good to stop now
This California livin`
Smoke up on the ceilin`
Party at the roof, off the hook
Got every drug up in the book
You don`t believe me
See for yourself and take a closer look
Low rider car shows
Hoppin` till the truck blows
Catch me at the bar
Havin` a drink with my uncles
Pacifico with no lime
That`s what I drink at all times
Creased up Davis`
I`m always out like where the pavement is
I come from the underground
The underground like where the basement is
It`s California, people have a hard time facin` it

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Lowrider bicycles, tricycles
Cold as icycles
Smokin` chronic shit
So high, you would think my eyes are closed
I got my eyes on those
Who be thinkin` that my eyes are closed
But there not ese
Trucha when you get too close
You`ll know, that I know
What you think? I don`t know
I might explode, unload
Reload, and unload
You broke the code, you got`s to go
Ain`t no future in your frontin`
Crazy California homeboy
Where the cuete`s bustin`
California stylin`, California ridin`
Whittier Boulevard to `Frisco
Then back to Highland
I gots to do it like the locos do
Don`t race your ride
Hop your ride like you`re supposed to do, through

[Chorus]

 

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