Luyện nghe bài hát Cali Chronic

it up

Yo, when I roll you the cats be out
So you cowards got no 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, on the low, pop two cops
Thug, against all odds, Tupac
I'm up, dog-tired from Jacob
Platinum, reach for it then up

For top dollar yo, I squeeze my
And Lord knows, I'll lead this
'Cuz I'm for whatever
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 pass the steel
wink and yo' ass get killed, all out

This is for the
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
Six-fo' riders, all them are low riders
blued out or flamed out
Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay

Light up the ba-ba, ask yourself, why try?
Touch the untouchable brotha 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 route we used to run from
Thirty-second precinct Jackie caught the dum-dum

It's hot now, now, all out gotta eat
Close shop down, send them across the street
My force 'cuz the cause is cheap
Reminiscin' all my homies that I on the streets
Dos Bruce, LB and Stevie D
Pour some liquor out and 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 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 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
Smoke we high, loc til' we die
Got locked up in
said, "Foo, what you in for?"
Jail mental', Wendel
Did 15, and got about 10
Oh, he was silent braille
In '83 was the first with

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

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
This is for the
Six-fo' riders, all ones are low riders
blued out or flamed out
Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay

is for the know-knotters
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 are low riders
Whether out or flamed out
Mask on, with them big things out, yay a yay