Lyrics California - SABA, Ravyn Lenae, Phoelix

California

See the horizon from the road, and hope that we drove… the right direction
'Cause I don’t wanna slow… down for no gas
And plus I’m runnin' low on cash
But I know that my bucket gon' make it to California, California
Hmmm mm mm Cali, Cali
What does love look like in the 22nd century?
Merely a memory
I intervene cause I tend to be a lil' more optimistic than the wildest child or
the most imaginative
I sip the tea after my opinion
They Pistol Pete, dishin' out assistance
Government aid, what does it take
To break the mold, ay I hate the po'
Like the base is low, but I’m out the park
Like the acre gone
Saba with the sabre sword
Focusin' on what we can’t afford
In the scheme of things, guess it just ain’t important
Who wasn’t broke for a moment or three
Start staining like, «oh it was free»
Then stop for a moment of peace
And plus they would call the police if you kept showin' ya face
I said I stopped dreamin', instead I decided to chase
And I ain’t look back, that’s how you turn to stone
My first friend up in high school was a Stone
He said come and join, I ain’t come along
Not cause I’m high and mighty, just cause I knew right from wrong
Somewhere I belong, looked but I didn’t find
But instead of getting discouraged I got my city behind
Now I’m feelin' worldwide, next stop NY
Next month LA, then back West Side
You change when a friend dies, new man since I lost Kobe
He got out of prison then called my phone like, «where ComfortZone?»
And since then I lost touch, but this year I’m gettin' it back
I finally feel like myself, what I’ve been on, don’t even ask
They ask me «why the Bucket List?»
You know the bucket list, I finally climbed the rock, made it to the top of the
precipice
I came from the pessimism of inner city as it is
Accident prone youth, adult say don’t take a chance
But we never listen, we went and did it, they vision impaired
So what do you fear, and why are you scared?
Why are you scared?
Why are you scared?
See the horizon from the road, and hope that we drove… the right direction
'Cause I don’t wanna slow… down for no gas
And plus I’m runnin' low on cash
But I know that my bucket gon' make it to California, California
See the horizon from the road, and hope that we drove… the right direction
'Cause I don’t wanna slow… down for no gas
And plus I’m runnin' low on cash
But I know that my bucket gon' make it to California, California
Hmmm mm mm Cali, Cali
See the horizon from the road, and hope that we drove… the right direction
'Cause I don’t wanna slow… down for no gas
And plus I’m runnin' low on cash
But I know that my bucket gon' make it to California, California
Yo yo yo what up?
This is Lupe Fiasco
And my bucket list… has many things in it
One of 'em is uh, wantin' to win the Nobel Prize, for somethin'.
Uhhhh, I also want… yeah that’s it, I just wanna win the Nobel Prize
Yeah!
House, in a gated neighborhood, not the hood, in the hills
Plus an ocean view, your wife and you is good
And your bills, ain’t never stress you and you get karate lesson
Here’s, to, no more tears
Look at what you done started?
Look at what you done started?
Lookin' at how you’ve gone, gone
Do you want a shooting star?
Look at what you done started?
Look at what you done started?
Lookin' at how you’ve gone, gone
You can leave it runnin'…
Yo yo yo, shoutout to my boy Saba, man.
It’s ya boy Donterio Hundon, man.
Ya know I fuck with ya bro, but I gotta bake anotha one, on baby.
Boy, yo ass look like a deep-fried West African squirrel with kinky twists,
yo lil' ugly ass boy.
Yo ass look like a sophisticated hamster with micro
braids, yo lil' ugly ass boy.
Yo ass look like a- yo ass look like a cool
chimpanzee with a mop in it’s head, yo lil' ugly ass boy, and we heard what
happened to you mhm.
You thought we wasn’t gonna find out, we found out, boy.
Yo ass was performing Sugar Pie Honey Bun every Tuesday on karaoke night at
TGI Fridays.
You got kicked off stage 'cause they ain’t pay you enough Corona
top and they didn’t give you no free Heineken, yo lil' ugly ass boy.
Yo ass look like the unpaid Future with no future, yo lil' ugly ass boy.
On my mom, you ass smell like a bag of whoop-dat-ass and train smoke,
yo lil' ugly ass boy, on baby.
You look like the type of nigga that be
gettin'- orderin' nachos with no cheese on them bitch.
You look like the nigga
to get on the CTA bus and put 200 pennies in that bitch, yo lil' ugly ass boy
on baby, you bogus