Cats And Dogs Lyrics - California Republic - Game

Verse 1 

Uhuh, I need a gangster bitch 

N*gga I ain't lyin, Im talkin when I fuck 

She scream you need silence 

No domestic violence (violence) 

Just domestic diamonds 

So lemme ice you out 

So when you slidin down the pole 

Doin your Magic City thing 

Yo neck and wrist glow 

Im dreamin, she ain't a stripper, she a classy girl 

Goin off that Patron, she my nasty girl 

First name, Rachael, last name Jones 

You related to Nas, girls, Queens my second home 

You know... we can tear it up 

Weekend in Cannes, then we comin to America 

...She love that Gucci, never been to ATL 

But she love that Gucci 

Brrr! She taught me how to cook cage 

And I taught her how to cook crack 

And I chopped it on her back 

Now tell me where they do that 

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Verse 2 

I put her on a Greyham 

She know she better stay down 

Ride and die like my Bentley 

Man this bitch will never break down 

She my bustin baby, you should see her bust a tre pound 

Love Roc-A-Fella so much, she won't even call me Jay now 

She roll my weedman, like she my wingman 

Then we get high, play Tiger Woods on that weed damn 

Love is for a season, haters 365 

And the game Cats and Dogs, keep your bitch by your side 

Got a hardtop Lambo, when the rain start to pour 

Not the rain outside, talkin the rain indoors 

Her girlfriend told her, that I was creepin with a stripper 

Told her I was courtside, watchin the wack ass Clippers 

Bitch please! Im a Laker fan and Kobe thats my n*gga 

Keep my grass cut so I can see when the snake slith her 

Shit, came out of no where like Khloe and Lamar 

Kinda got a n*gga thinkin maybe Im. 

Photos 

Verse 3 

I let her drive the Range on our first date 

She the first one to put me on that Drake mixtape 

"I just wanna be successful baby" 

Take you out the Hudson jeans and redress you baby 

We can walk down Rodaeo, turn around, you on Melrose 

Fly to New York in the winter and try on some Timbos 

Or we can hit South Beach, fuck with Ross and Timbo 

The world is cherry pond, and we can slice it up like Kimbo 

You cook the rock, I break it down 

I wrap it up, you weigh them pounds 

I make the car, you start the car 

We can drive it out of town 

Im your nigga right? And you my bitch (Yea.) 

Even if they lock me up, she gon get them brakes there 

And when we get tired, we hit the truck stop and sit there 

And zip my 501's and she gon put her lips there 

The memoirs of a perfect bitch 

You gotta hold them down even if its.