AWA

Lakers (feat. Ab-Soul, Polyester the Saint) feat. Ab-Soul,Polyester the Saint

71
2
  • 2014.03.18
  • 4:30
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歌詞

Nigga, fuck it, 77 Cutlass I move my ass to Cali with my Indiana bucket I need to slap a wet one on the frame, a little rusty They call my shit a scraper and the beta bitches love it And I'm choking on some Cali good Been want to cruise on Crenshaw Since a little nigga watching Boyz n in the Hood Since Ricky got killed, copping that corn meal Before the palm trees, pussy and the recording years I was overdue for a visit A valley bitch with family in the Chi gave me digits The 818, the sex was great, perfect the art of fornication Put a bitch out the car for a bar, your Cali conversation All my hoes from way back want me to be chilling where they at G.I. until I die, but bitch L.A. is where I lay at My children gon' be raised at where they gon' place my grave at Since Magic bought the team, he brought new meaning to that L.A. hat Shout out to the blocks Inglewood, Compton, South Central to Watts My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you I'm on my way to LAX from JFK, it's a great day I mean I love New York, but of course I live out there so don't go there, you heard it before Ironic my uncle had the king of music on Crenshaw Cause now I'm the king to music to all y'all California love, California dreaming I've seen lost angels, I even found demons Where you learn to survive and keep your head high Hit the weed clinic 'fore sativa get your head high We ain't in Kansas City, but you'll find a TEC-9 And if that tech jammed you better have a toast too Fuck that, this what we gon' toast to Everybody that ain't die before 21 like we was s'posed to For the mail I'm going postal I heard the baddest females on pacific coastal If it means anything, I'm so L.A. my dad died on King, nigga My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you Yeah, went from a condo 'til sleeping on my nigga couch Popping sedatives, negatives in my bank account Too much pride to let this pussy industry play me out Preparing that broken dream, that's what L.A. about Shout to Cali Bud, my Westcoast plug Brother from another mother, he showed that Westcoast love Nigga, me and Killa Caz was pulling them stick-ups, cuz Bending blocks with my nigga Box smoking the whip up Blood Gots to keep it true when I maneuver I got all kind of homies, Harlems, Avalons and Hoovers My little homie from Families, he keep a team of shooters My 60 niggas stay Rolling, my Eight Trey niggas moving Been 20 years since the riots L.A. nigga keep it thorough, fuck keeping quiet Bitch it's on in this war zone where we reside As I begin let my sins wash away with the tides Who the fuck I'm kidding? I done tried everything but dying Flirting with other places, but this Cali bitch stay on my mind My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you My home, my home L.A. I ride for you When I am gone just know that I owe you

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Freddie Gibbs & Madlib, feat. Ab-Soul, Polyester the Saint
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