| Yay-YAY! |
| Cali-forn-yi-aye
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| Sunday afternoon baby, pull it out
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| Whip it out, pull it out, drive it out, drop it out
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| You know! |
| Let 'em know
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| I got chrome and paint
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| Nigga what you thank, I got chrome and paint
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| Bitch what you drank, I got chrome and paint
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| Smokin that dank in my chrome and paint
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| Street lights — dance on paint
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| Street lights — dance on chrome
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| Street lights — get a nigga home
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| You can die in these streets all alone
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| I am the wrong nigga, too fuckin grown nigga
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| To go for that nigga, I ain’t 'cha ho nigga
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| I got, a hair trigger, I am the dome splitter
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| The deep-sea sniper, you got the wrong niggas
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| Retire like Jigga, here comes the Attila the Hun
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| Killin niggas for fun, these rappers is done
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| The bigger they come, the harder they fall
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| I burn like the sun, continue to ball
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| He’s got nuts and plus the Don touch
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| And split the fine dutch, Starsky call Hutch
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| He’s laid, with some sluts, up in some guts
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| Just back, in the cut, he thinks he’s King Tut
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| Cain’t fuck, this nigga up, cause just, the nigga luck
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| That niggas, really love him and tear the city up
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| Uhh, even though I’m fuckin with the po'-po'
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| Them nigga know how I act in the low-low
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| I’m ghetto like grits, die befo' I snitch
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| Off my ass khakis sag like cellulite tits bitch
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| Under the suede, headliner and I ain’t yo momma
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| Play with my dollars on yo' ass they’ll be layin flowers
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| I put a hole in your brain with these hollow hot rocks
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| Hittin the switch, makin the fo' hopscotch
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| Rollin up imperial in dickie material
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| All in your periphreal, throwin shells at your vehicle
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| Clipped up, pimped up, big chipped up
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| Stacy Adams tips spiffed up, golf hat flipped up
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| I blow yo' ass off the map, fuck with Dub
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| I’ll have yo' ass rollin home with windshield glass on your lap
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| Fuck rap, I’m wearin a creased tee, eatin ribs
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| Laughin at you niggas on MTV Cribs
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| I got the chrome thang thang to make the dome stank
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| Hood life forever bitch, chrome and paint, c’mon
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| Street lights (woop woop)
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| Even though I’m fuckin with the po'-po'
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| Them nigga know how I act in the low-low
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| Slow mo', nigga check out my promo
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| You mo’fo’s can’t fuck with my mojo
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| Street lights |