Tonalité : D minor•
Verse 1
Dm
Gm
Dm
Gm
I keep
Dm
it gangsta with two pistols,
I could make you dance
Gm
to leave you crippled.
Dm
Standing on the block with
a beam and a treble.
Gm
On the real, I've been on the bus
like a teenager with pimples.
Dm
Ever since my adolescence,
money and gunplay
Gm
are the only two things that made sense.
Dm
Knew my destiny was
bangin' since the playpen
Gm
Hit the state pen an d got laced
by some A -men
Dm
Sometimes I can't
believe the cinnamon
Head smellin' with a Mac
Gm
11 under my Pendleton
Dm
Vodka and orange juice with
a little bit of cinnamon
Gm
Two -striker, homie,
I ain't tryin' to hit the pen again
Dm
Eastside us, empire riders
Gm
Screamin' fuck my enemies
and all these haters
Dm
Keepin' it solid like concrete
While you soft like some downulators
Gm
You can try if you want,
but you can never fade us
Dm
Homie, we all play
Gm
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't eat me
Dm
California, ay
The Golden State,
Gm
where we put it down the West Coast way
Dm
Homie, we all play
Gm
You'll find out real quick who's
Dm
listening shit
California, ay
Gm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Dm
Listen up homies,
from them yos's to them OG's
Gm
We don't play everyday,
rolling in them cold streets
Dm
From west of LA, to east side of IE
Homies just don't play,
Gm
that's why they just don't try me
Dm
We rollin' 5 deep,
Gm
rollin' in a black caddy creepin'
Hollaboy tips hittin' bottles
Dm
till they fuckin' sleepin'
Gang unit people trippin' on
Gm
these brown thugs
Middle fingers up, best to fuck em,
Dm
they get no love
How they gonna hate on these bottles?
Gm
Mr. Criminal hooked up with the
homies from the sopper
Dm
We put it down, town to town,
fathers gettin' clowned
Gm
Find out we don't play,
Dm
Gm
when you catch these Hollaboy grounds
Dm
They found, they couldn't keep
some solid bottles down
Gm
Never fallin' on these feet,
planted on the ground
Dm
These clowns found out that
these homies don't play
Gm
Roll your little bucket through the hood,
it's gettin' sprayed, homie
Dm
Homie, we don't play
Gm
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
Dm
can't hit me California, ay
The Golden State,
Gm
where we runnin' down the
West Coast way
Dm
Homie, we don't play
Gm
You'll find out, real hype,
Dm
blue lipstick shit
California, ay
Gm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Dm
We don't play like them
kids on a sunny day
So in California,
Gm
you gotta watch what the fuck you say
Dm
A lot of dirty hinders on me,
so watch where you lay
Gm
All the weak will get ate up
C
like some Frito -Lays
Gm
Dm
I'ma stay with the same clique,
never gonna change this
Gm
Dm
Ridin' with my boys,
Gm
so there's gotta be a full clip
Dm
Loose lips, go ahead and miss
me with that bullshit
I'm movin',
Gm
somethin' sorta like a big train
Dm
Across the tracks,
where we gotta keep that good name
Gm
Already got a whole lotta hood fame
Dm
We gotta put these rappers to the side
like loose chains
Gm
Or roll em up,
Dm
Gm
smoke em up like some Mary Jane
Dm
Gm
Dm
Mr. Criminal on the track,
you know it's official
Gm
It's kinda like shootin' at
Dm
your fools with a missile
You know you're fucked
by the sounds of the whistle
Gm
So here we come, load it up,
we're gonna get you
Dm
Hom ie, we don't play
Gm
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
Dm
you can't hit me California
The Golden State,
Gm
where we put it down the
West Coast way
Dm
Homie, we don't play
Gm
You'll find out real quick
who's lipstick shit
Dm
California
Gm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Dm
This gang bang shit, yeah,
blood's in my blood
Gm
The way I was raised,
I was bound to be a thug
Dm
Ball head tatted with my face all mud
Gm
I'm a G from the turf,
I don't show no love
Dm
Bandits east side,
where them killers reside
Gm
California crazy and I'm quick to ride
Dm
A real low G, so I'll never retire
Gm
I gotta keep it true, I could never be a liar
Dm
Full -blooded frog until my life expires
Gm
Where violence is constant
and a stripe is compatible
Dm
Livin' on the edge in
the Three Strikes Capital
Gm
Moms couldn't stop me,
gang tats neither
Dm
Thought I was Scarface
when I got my first heater
Gm
They shot me to the pen,
got stretched for ten
Dm
Refused to deuce cause
real G's don't bend
Gm
Back on the streets, fuckin' up again
Dm
Homie, we don't play
Gm
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't get me
Dm
Telephone, I ain't The Golden State,
Gm
where we put it down,
the West Coast way
Dm
Call me, we don't play
Gm
You'll find out real quick
Who's lipstick shit
Dm
Telephone 9 -8
Gm
I'mma always represent it
to my judgment day
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AccordeurE A D G B E
AccordsDm Gm C
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