Luyện nghe bài hát Cali Chronic

it up

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

Hud, stay on the low, pop two
Thug, against all odds, Tupac
I'm up, dog-tired from Jacob
Platinum, reach for it then up

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

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

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

up the izzy-izzy ba-ba, ask yourself, why try?
Touch the brotha that's in front of you
Harlem U.S.A be the place I come from
Twenty-ninth and be that place I get the guns from
lots be the route that we used to run from
Thirty-second precinct until Jackie caught the

hot now, cops now, all out gotta eat
Close food down, send them across the street
My force overheat 'cuz the is cheap
all my homies that I lost on the streets
Dos Bruce, LB and even D
Pour some out and throw it up for a G
NRB, be the click claim to be
So if worse come to worse, do the for me

This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
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' them big things out, yay a yay

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

Caught his first bid with narcotics
And had Day tons and kept 'em polished
You me about khakis and converse
And if a foo' try to then you ball first, feel me?
But now I'm stackin' my
in the trick, come out a day early is a slap on the wrist
But one never sleep on it
I went from Harlem to L.A. fool, so on it

is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them 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 ones are low riders
Whether blued out or out
on, ridin' with them big things out, yay a yay

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