California Lyrics - Lil' Rob

Southern California 

Home of low-ridin' 

Gang-bangin' and shit 

California 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and bomb-droppin' 

West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin') 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(I was raised in Californ-I-A 

Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say) 

I've always been down with hydros 

And cholos, the low-lows 

The six-threes, the six-fours 

The rucas with no clothes 

Used to drop the two-door 

Gang-bang in a four door 

Puttin' bullet holes 

In the doors of a Ford Explorer 

Hard-core, and I got more and more 

Where that came from? 

Welcome to my kingdom 

The streets are my freedom 

I need em', I feed em', I feedback 

They need that, like I need my weed sack 

Take a toque, wacha 

Where were we at? 

Oh, California the golden state 

Controllin' states, pushin' weight 

Where vatos like me hallucinate 

Double up while you fumble up 

Fuckin' up, you fuckin' punk 

If there's no room 

Then we'll stick em' by the fuckin' pump 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and bomb-droppin' 

West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin') 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(I was raised in Californ-I-A 

Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say) 

Slippin' and dippin', grippin' the wheel 

Lockin' it up 

Dump the back corner 

Pop the front one up 

Put the convertable top down 

It's too good to stop now 

This California livin' 

Smoke up on the ceilin' 

Party at the roof, off the hook 

Got every drug up in the book 

You don't believe me 

See for yourself and take a closer look 

Low rider car shows 

Hoppin' till the truck blows 

Catch me at the bar 

Havin' a drink with my uncles 

Pacifico with no lime 

That's what I drink at all times 

Creased up Davis', I'm always out like where the pavement is 

I come from the underground 

The underground like where the basement is 

It's California, people have a hard time facin' it 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and bomb-droppin' 

West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin') 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(I was raised in Californ-I-A 

Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say) 

Low rider bicycles, tricycles 

Cold as icicles 

Smokin' chronic shit 

So high, you would think my eyes are closed 

I got my eyes on those 

Who be thinkin' that my eyes are closed 

But there not ese 

Trucha when you get too close 

You'll know, that I know 

What you think, I don't know 

I might explode, unload 

Reload, and unload 

You broke the code, you gots to go 

Ain't no future in your frontin' 

Crazy California homeboy 

Where the cuete's bustin' 

California stylin', California ridin' 

Whittier Boulevard to 'Frisco 

Then back to Highland 

I gots to do it like the locos do 

Don't race your ride 

Hop your ride like you're supposed to do, through 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and bomb-droppin' 

West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin') 

I was raised in the streets of California 

(I was raised in Californ-I-A 

Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say)