Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cali Sunshine, artist - The Game. Date of issue: 31.12.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Cali Sunshine |
| Last year, Jazze Phe got stuck up inside the grand lux, |
| Most recent was 50 in Angola, that’s what’s up, |
| Any rapper could touched, any bitch could get fucked, |
| Under the California sun, impalas and big trucks, |
| They say Suge got knocked out, but don’t play that nigga cheap, |
| Cuz you’re body might wash up by the courts at Venice Beach, |
| Ain’t shit sweet but my Swisher, ain’t shit buzzin but my liquor, |
| Cali chickens got to the 80's strip and come back a little thicker, |
| With more ass then Delicious, that’s my Flavor of Love, |
| We make it rain like Rainman, when he play with the glove, |
| I’m the king to you pawn niggas, punisher, spawn, niggas, |
| Playin in green, Paul Pierce to you Lebron niggas, |
| We them barbeque, front and back lawn niggas, |
| Summer Jam, throw your ass offstage Akon niggas, |
| We drink Kool Aid with the ice on your arm nigga, |
| Take that Champion hoody off in the California sunshine |
| I’m in my drop top Phantom, down Wilshire boulevard, |
| We can’t find Biggies' killers so we gave Diddy a star, |
| And I’m by far, Hollywood boulevard, |
| but I’m from a boulevard that tought ya’ll to shoot out of moving cars, |
| Remember, New Jersey driver’s like a East Coast menace, |
| And Belly was like the sequel without O-Dogg in it, |
| Give me a New York minute, |
| to show you Cali got more dead bodies then the Yankees got New York pennants, |
| Cuz we Dodgers and Impalas with the windows tinted, |
| I duck shots where Venus and Sarena used to play tennis, |
| And they never came back, like throwin a boomerang flat, |
| See me, I’m posted like a Cincinatti pitcher in the same hat, |
| It’s like a scene from a movie, when the screen fade black, |
| Niggas roll up on you, Now you stuck in that Harold and Cane trap, |
| If you slippin in Hollywood, and you get your chain snatched, |
| I know some niggas that know some niggas, Ill get your chain back. |
| Niggas already know who had the marijuana first, |
| We birthed haze and sour diesel, I was there when the water burst, |
| Hell nah we don’t surf, We half way go to church, |
| Tell you the truth, shiit, right now I’m in the fuckin hearse, |
| And it ain’t my night to get buried in the dirt |
| But it is your day to get buried by a verse, |
| It’ll be another ten years before you see an MC Ren here, |
| Where he been, I been there, that Lambo, I’m in there, |
| Hotter then the beginning of my career with 50, Dre and Em there, |
| Top off the Murcialago like Victoria’s Secret swim swear, |
| So listen, I’m so sincere, bout to work out like gym wear, |
| Murder MTV’s top ten, and tat my face with 10 tears, |
| That’s 10 funerals, 10 caskets, |
| 10 3-piece Ralph Lauren suits, 10 motorbikes stopping traffic, |
| And 10 reasons why I got California hotter than acid, |
| Don’t you ever, ever leave me out of the top 10 you fuckin' bastards |
| Blaow. |