Luyện nghe bài hát Cali Chronic

it up

Yo, when I you know the cats be out
So you got no choice but to rat me out
I call in the pen to try to see what that be 'bout
'Cuz I catch a fool and yo, his ass is out

Hud, stay on the low, pop two
Thug, against all odds, Tupac
I'm caked up, from Jacob
Platinum, reach for it wake up

For top dollar yo, I squeeze my
And Lord knows, I'll this nigga
I'm down for whatever
Matter of fact, I'm down for the
Try to clown and get yo' ass layed forever

Niggas to see a G come up
Young that run up get gun up
the real, seen the nigga pass the steel
Even and yo' ass get killed, all out

This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
All smokers, Olde E sippers
All homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
Whether out or flamed out
Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay

Light up the izzy-izzy ba-ba, ask yourself, why
Touch the untouchable brotha in front of you
Harlem U.S.A be the place I come from
Twenty-ninth and Lenox be that I get the guns from
Vacant lots be the that we used to run from
Thirty-second until Jackie caught the dum-dum

It's hot now, now, all out gotta eat
Close food shop down, send across the street
My overheat 'cuz the cause is cheap
Reminiscin' all my homies that I lost on the
Dos Bruce, LB and even D
Pour some liquor out and it up for a G
NRB, be the click they to be
So if come to worse, do the same for me

This is for the
riders, all them ones are low riders
All weed smokers, Olde E
All homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders
blued out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big out, yay a yay

Now, we drink '45, tote 45's
'til we high, loc til' we die
Got locked up in
said, "Foo, what you in for?"
Jail mental', named
Did 15, and got about 10
Oh, he was silent braille
In '83 was the first hydraulics

Caught his first bid dealin' with
And had Day and always kept 'em polished
You taught me about khakis and
And if a foo' try to move you ball first, feel me?
But now I'm stackin' my
Back in the trick, come out a day is a slap on the wrist
But one time sleep on it
I went Harlem to L.A. fool, so speak on it

is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders
All smokers, Olde E sippers
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, it up
This is for the
riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big out, yay a yay

is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders
All smokers, Olde E sippers
All homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
Whether blued out or out
Mask on, ridin' with big things out, yay a yay