| Nobody feels like a G feels
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| When he post up his '64 on three wheels
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| Daddy ask me «what you wanna be when you grow up?»
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| A low rider with some Colt 45 in my cup
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| I was on my way to college and then saw
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| A Cadillac three-wheeling down Crenshaw
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| It was nineteen hundred and eighty three
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| I knew exactly what the fuck I wanted to be
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| A low rider, bass provider, drop down like a spider
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| Spy the hood rat and go straight inside her
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| But if she buttless
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| …bitch can’t ride in my Cutlass
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| Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday
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| Running them red lights sideways
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| In the parks and streets, brothers keep dying
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| But I drop the back and let the sparks keep flying
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| My daddy wanted me to take the Daytons off the Dodge
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| Cause the 'baseheads keep breaking in the garage
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| I keep sagging in my 'lac with my butt out, I strut out
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| Look at my two front tires, you know I cut out
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| I took from the ghetto what I could take
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| But you can’t take my P. O with the metal flake
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| I’m a knucklehead buzzing off of alcohol
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| Messing up a new car for no reason at all
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| Hit the switch homeboy, Hit the swiotch
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| Stop acting like a little old biotch
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| Front and back homeboy front and back
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| Blaze the sac and pass back my yack
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| Three wheels homeboy, three wheels
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| Let me see your low rider G skills
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| One switch, two switch, three switch, four
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| Oh my God, my battery’s low!
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| Cali, Cali swangin'
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| Sound, system bangin'
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| Can’t stop sporting them all-stars
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| Can’t stop driving them gangster cars
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| New cars just don’t appeal to me
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| It’s 2004 and I’m a still a G
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| Cops don’t want brothers loiterin'
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| Gangbangers drive by and start slaughterin'
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| So they talk a lot of smack and write a fat ticket
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| But I drive around the corner, come back and still kick it
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| Gotta sell wheatgerm and crack, so
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| I can have money just in case I break a axle
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| I turn my music up loud to attract a crowd
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| Throw the hood out the window, make the homeboys proud
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| Keep my kahkis creased right with my girl in my ride
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| I used to be local but now I’m worldwide
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| Afromanmusic dot com blowing up like Vietnam
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| Af-ro-man-make the Cadillac coupe pan-cake
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| Lock it up, cock it up
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| Post on threes, twist on Ds
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| Afro as you ride her, Cadillac walk like a spider
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| Smash out fast then dump her, sparks straight flying from the bumper
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| World. |
| Wide. |
| Hungry. |
| Hustler, hit that switch don’t be no buster
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| Hop in the coupe like a toad frog, go swoop up your role dog
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| Cali Swangin' K.J., Go way back like heyday
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| Six stray, six 'fo
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| A. F. R. O |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cali Swangin' , by - Afroman. Song from the album Afroholic...The Even Better Times, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп