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 from the pen to try to see what that be
'Cuz I a fool slip and yo, his ass is out

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

For top dollar yo, I squeeze my
And Lord knows, I'll lead 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
niggas that run up get gun up
That's the real, seen the nigga the steel
wink and yo' ass get killed, all out

This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
All weed smokers, 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
Whether blued out or out
Mask on, ridin' them big things out, yay a yay

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

hot now, cops now, all out gotta eat
Close food shop down, send across the street
My force overheat the cause is cheap
Reminiscin' all my homies I lost 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

This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
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
Whether out or flamed out
on, ridin' with 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', Wendel
Did 15, and got 10 more
Oh, he was silent than
In '83 was the first with

his first bid dealin' with narcotics
And had Day and always kept 'em polished
You me about khakis and converse
And if a try to move then 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 from Harlem to L.A. fool, so on it

This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low
All weed smokers, Olde E
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, it up
This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all 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 weed smokers, 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' them big things out, yay a yay