r - Cali
Oh, yeah
Oh, yeah
Oh, yeah
Oh, wooh!
Niggas pistol-poppin' like it's 1999
I was nine, maybe ten, then again, never mind
Press rewind, back in time
Before rappers droppin' dimes
Trap or die, choppin' pies
With clichés all in they rhymes
Now it's Gucci, Prada and anything designer
Money, power, the whole enchilada
Commas, dollas, the greens and the guava (oh)
They serve you to your flocka
If you disrespect that blocka, blocka
Choppas on eavesdroppers
Fuck these choppas, I'm about it
Grindin' like 2Pac or Biggie Poppa
Yeah, you outer, but I'm hotter
Car jackin', pistol-packin'
Mothafuckin' choppers clappin'
Metal jacket, automatic magazines, head-on traffic
Fenders smashin', windows crashin'
Pants saggin', fuck your fashion
Yeah, a nigga run Manhattan
Back in Cali's where it happen
They fit Gucci, Escada and anything designer
Groupies, poppers, they all gonna swallow
It was probably the robbers
The goons and the goblins (oh)
They hatin' a lot, medulla oblongata
From New York to San Andreas
And all around the world
Going back to Cali
Going back to Cali
New York to San Andreas
I'm screaming, "Fuck the world!"
I'm going back to Cali
Going back to Cali (Uh)
Nigga, what's brackin'? I'm really out here boolin' on the West Side, you know what I'm sayin'?
West, you know what I mean?
Yeah, just seen a Camino, know what I mean?
Just bein' careful out here
Lookin' out for the enemies
Cuz, you already know how we get down, cuz
Fuck killin' these, cuz, I'm on the set, cuz
We killin' everything, anything movin'
Shit, I'm shootin' at niggas on the sight, cuz
You already know, yeah
I've caught you slippin', y'all can be back, nigga
He ain't copped that, fuck that, Blood
Niggas slippin' on the cuz, cuz
I had to make that happen with this solo
Maserati, like Atari
With no car keys, push to start it
New Bugatti, two Bugattis
Tesla Roadster, blue Ferrari
Lamborghini, system bumpin'
Me no worried; Rastafari
This the hardest, supersonic
Systematic, too retarded
New Versace, new apartment
Bigger closet, newer carpet
Hit departments, cooler garments
Set my goal up, new accomplish
Shootin' targets, you the target
Movin' targets, new accomplice
Killed the game and still regardless
Beat the charges, do the honors
Oh, yeah
Oh, yeah
Oh, wooh!
Niggas pistol-poppin' like it's 1999
I was nine, maybe ten, then again, never mind
Press rewind, back in time
Before rappers droppin' dimes
Trap or die, choppin' pies
With clichés all in they rhymes
Now it's Gucci, Prada and anything designer
Money, power, the whole enchilada
Commas, dollas, the greens and the guava (oh)
They serve you to your flocka
If you disrespect that blocka, blocka
Choppas on eavesdroppers
Fuck these choppas, I'm about it
Grindin' like 2Pac or Biggie Poppa
Yeah, you outer, but I'm hotter
Car jackin', pistol-packin'
Mothafuckin' choppers clappin'
Metal jacket, automatic magazines, head-on traffic
Fenders smashin', windows crashin'
Pants saggin', fuck your fashion
Yeah, a nigga run Manhattan
Back in Cali's where it happen
They fit Gucci, Escada and anything designer
Groupies, poppers, they all gonna swallow
It was probably the robbers
The goons and the goblins (oh)
They hatin' a lot, medulla oblongata
From New York to San Andreas
And all around the world
Going back to Cali
Going back to Cali
New York to San Andreas
I'm screaming, "Fuck the world!"
I'm going back to Cali
Going back to Cali (Uh)
Nigga, what's brackin'? I'm really out here boolin' on the West Side, you know what I'm sayin'?
West, you know what I mean?
Yeah, just seen a Camino, know what I mean?
Just bein' careful out here
Lookin' out for the enemies
Cuz, you already know how we get down, cuz
Fuck killin' these, cuz, I'm on the set, cuz
We killin' everything, anything movin'
Shit, I'm shootin' at niggas on the sight, cuz
You already know, yeah
I've caught you slippin', y'all can be back, nigga
He ain't copped that, fuck that, Blood
Niggas slippin' on the cuz, cuz
I had to make that happen with this solo
Maserati, like Atari
With no car keys, push to start it
New Bugatti, two Bugattis
Tesla Roadster, blue Ferrari
Lamborghini, system bumpin'
Me no worried; Rastafari
This the hardest, supersonic
Systematic, too retarded
New Versace, new apartment
Bigger closet, newer carpet
Hit departments, cooler garments
Set my goal up, new accomplish
Shootin' targets, you the target
Movin' targets, new accomplice
Killed the game and still regardless
Beat the charges, do the honors
Credits
Writer(s): Rakim Mayers, Joey Vercher, . Aston Matthews, Kevin Roosevelt Ii Moore
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.