Luyện nghe bài hát California

Southern
of low-ridin'
Gang-bangin' and

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

I've always down with hydros
And cholos, the
The six-threes, the
The rucas no clothes
Used to the two-door
Gang-bang in a door
bullet holes
In the doors of a Ford
Hard-core, and I got and more
that came from?
Welcome to my
The are my freedom
I em', I feed em', I feedback
need that, like I need my weed sack
Take a toque,
Where we at?
Oh, the golden state
states, pushin' weight
Where vatos me hallucinate
Double up while you up
up, you fuckin' punk
If no room
Then we'll stick em' by the fuckin'

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 streets of
(I was raised in
Where homeboys die over some shit they say)

and dippin', grippin' the wheel
it up
Dump the corner
Pop the one up
Put the top down
too good to stop now
This livin'
up on the ceilin'
Party at the roof, off the
Got drug up in the book
You don't me
See for yourself and take a look
Low car shows
Hoppin' till the blows
me at the bar
Havin' a drink my uncles
with no lime
That's what I drink at all
Creased up Davis', I'm always out where the pavement is
I come from the
The underground where the basement is
It's California, have a hard time facin' it

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

Low bicycles, tricycles
Cold as
chronic shit
So high, you think my eyes are closed
I got my on those
Who be that my eyes are closed
But not ese
Trucha you get too close
You'll know, that I
you think, I don't know
I might explode,
Reload, and
You the code, you gots to go
Ain't no in your frontin'
Crazy California
Where the bustin'
stylin', California ridin'
Whittier to 'Frisco
Then to Highland
I gots to do it like the do
Don't race your
Hop ride like you're supposed to do, through

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