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    Lil' Rob / Lyrics

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    "California" Lyrics

    Lil' Rob

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

    [Chorus](Lil' Rob)
    I was raised on the streets of California in California
    (Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and
    West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')
    I was raised on the streets of California in 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


    [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


    [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

    This song was last modified on November 23rd, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Memory Lane Music Group, The Songwriters Guild Of America.
    Written by Al Jolson, B. G. Desylva, Joseph Meyer.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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