Luyện nghe bài hát California

Southern
of low-ridin'
Gang-bangin' and

I was raised in the streets of
(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and
West pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')
I was raised in the streets of
(I was in Californ-I-A
Where homeboys die over some shit they say)

I've always been down hydros
And cholos, the
The six-threes, the
The rucas no clothes
Used to the two-door
Gang-bang in a door
Puttin' holes
In the of a Ford Explorer
Hard-core, and I got more and
that came from?
Welcome to my
The are my freedom
I need em', I em', I feedback
need that, like I need my weed sack
a toque, wacha
Where we at?
Oh, California the golden
Controllin' states, pushin'
vatos like me hallucinate
Double up you fumble up
Fuckin' up, you fuckin'
If no room
Then we'll em' by the fuckin' pump

I was raised in the of California
(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and
West coast pop lockin', walkin' how talkin')
I was raised in the of California
(I was in Californ-I-A
Where homeboys die over some shit they say)

Slippin' and dippin', grippin' the
it up
Dump the corner
Pop the one up
Put the convertable top
It's too good to now
This livin'
Smoke up on the
Party at the roof, off the
Got every up in the book
You don't me
See for and take a closer look
Low rider car
Hoppin' the truck blows
me at the bar
Havin' a with my uncles
Pacifico no lime
what I drink at all times
Creased up Davis', I'm always out where the pavement is
I from the underground
The underground where the basement is
It's California, have a hard time facin' it

I was in the streets of California
(Southern California, of car-hoppin' and bomb-droppin'
coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')
I was raised in the streets of
(I was in Californ-I-A
Where die everyday over some shit they say)

Low bicycles, tricycles
as icicles
Smokin' chronic
So high, you would my eyes are closed
I got my on those
Who be thinkin' that my eyes are
But not ese
Trucha when you get too
You'll know, I know
What you think, I don't
I explode, unload
Reload, and
You broke the code, you to go
Ain't no future in your
Crazy California
Where the bustin'
stylin', California ridin'
Whittier to 'Frisco
Then back to
I gots to do it like the do
race your ride
Hop your ride like you're supposed to do,

I was in the streets of California
(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and
coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')
I was raised in the streets of
(I was raised in
Where homeboys die everyday over shit they say)