Luyện nghe bài hát Cali Chronic

it up

Yo, when I roll you 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 slip 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 my trigger
And Lord knows, I'll lead this
'Cuz I'm down for
Matter of fact, I'm for the cheddar
Try to and get yo' ass layed down forever

Niggas to see a G come up
Young niggas run up get gun up
That's the real, seen the nigga pass the
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 homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders
Whether out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with big things out, yay a yay

Light up the izzy-izzy ba-ba, ask yourself, why
Touch the untouchable that's in front of you
Harlem U.S.A be the place I come from
and Lenox be that place 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, cops now, all out eat
food shop down, send them across the street
My force overheat 'cuz the is cheap
Reminiscin' all my homies that I on the streets
Dos Bruce, LB and even D
Pour liquor out and throw it up for a G
NRB, be the click they to be
So if worse come to worse, do the for me

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

Now, we drink Colt '45, tote
Smoke 'til we high, loc 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 bid dealin' with narcotics
And had Day tons and always kept 'em
You taught me about khakis and
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 ones are low
All weed smokers, 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 out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with big things 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
This is for the
riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether out or flamed out
Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay