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[Lil' Rob]Southern CaliforniaHome of low-ridin'Gang-bangin' and shitCalifornia[Chorus](Lil' Rob)I was raised in the streets of California(Southern California, home of car-hoppin' andbomb-droppin'West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')I was raised in the streets of California(I was raised in Californ-I-AWhere homeboys die everyday over some shit they say)[Verse 1]I've always been down with hydrosAnd cholos, the low-lowsThe six-threes, the six-foursThe rucas with no clothesUsed to drop the two-doorGang-bang in a four doorPuttin' bullet holesIn the doors of a Ford ExplorerHard-core, and I got more and moreWhere that came from?Letras de cancionesWelcome to my kingdomThe streets are my freedomI need em', I feed em', I feedbackThey need that, like I need my weed sackTake a toque, wachaWhere were we at?Oh, California the golden stateControllin' states, pushin' weightWhere vatos like me hallucinatebouble up while you fumble upFuckin' up, you fuckin' punkIf there's no roomThen we'll stick em' by the fuckin' pump[Chorus][Verse 2]Slippin' and dippin', grippin' the wheelLockin' it upDump the back cornerPop the front one upPut the convertable top downIt's too good to stop nowThis California livin'Smoke up on the ceilin'Party at the roof, off the hookGot every drug up in the bookYou don't believe meSee for yourself and take a closer lookLow rider car showsHoppin' till the truck blowsCatch me at the barHavin' a beer with my unclesPacifico with no limeThat's what I drink at all timesCreased up Davis'I'm always out like where the pavement isI come from the undergroundThe underground like where the basement isIt's California, people have a hard time facin' it[Chorus][Verse 3]Lowrider bicycles, tricyclesCold as icyclesSmokin' chronic shitSo high, you would think my eyes are closedI got my eyes on thoseWho be thinkin' that my eyes are closedBut there not eseTrucha when you get too closeYou'll know, that I knowWhat you think? I don't knowI might explode, unloadReload, and unloadYou broke the code, you got's to goAin't no future in your frontin'Crazy California homeboyWhere the cuete's bustin'California stylin', California ridin'Whittier Boulevard to bristolThen back to HighlandI gots to do it like the locos doDon't race your rideHop your ride like you're supposed to do, through[Chorus] From Letras Mania