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Crooked I - Cal-if-or-ni-a (ft. Mr. Silky Slim, Roscoe Umali & Mash)
#1
Artist: Crooked I (feat. Mr. Silky Slim, Roscoe Umali & Mash)
Song: Cal-if-or-ni-a
Produced by: BH
Appears on:St. Valentines Day Bossacre


Chorus: (Mash)

When the choppers bang you won't hear a thang
Just another man slain in Cal-if-or-ni-a
We the truth in this, the rag ruthless clique
It’s on sight in Cal-if-or-ni-a

Verse 1: (Mr. Silky Slim)

The pimp game saved me, the concrete made me
The O.G.’s raised me, I’m ready to go bitch
? you should already know this
It’s big money involved, that’s why I stay focused
From Sac-Town to Dego, it’s all about the bank roll
Slighter than a safe box, stack it up like Lego
B.H. cut the beat, from the Santa Ana Halos
My foot’s in the door, now I’m here, and I can't go
You’re stuck with my yellow ass, grab your baby mama Jack
Then straight lace game on how to ridin’ in a Cadillac
I do magic, pull a mink out a gator hat
I don’t know about a hook man, but I check money out a bitch
Listen here, this my time
I give a fuck about your shine, I take that limelight
Make it rain on a hoe, you better get your mind right
Be surprised what bad bitch’ll do for a ? dyke   

Chorus: (Mash)

When the choppers bang you won't hear a thang
Just another man slain in Cal-if-or-ni-a
We the truth in this, the rag ruthless clique
It’s on sight in Cal-if-or-ni-a

Verse 2: (Roscoe Umali)

Oh my goodness, oh my god
Mobbin’ through the city like the Big Boss Hogg
Sneakin’ through the smog then chief another spark
It’s Mr. Umali spittin’ bars at you raw
Like smashin’ on a broad, raw dawg on the first night
I tell a bitch bounce and kick rocks like a dirt bike
I’m a hustler; gettin’ money is my birth rights
Spit game so tight, I can probably convert a dyke
Roscoe shine brighter than a search light
And everytime I bust, I murder mics
I ain't your stereo type but stereo typical rapper
I hop off the track and braw
Catch me overseas, in the sea on a sea do
Sippin’ ? so the bottle see-through
My team pack heat, triangle the face
Eagles is ready to put a whole in your body
So we can see through

Chorus: (Mash)

When the choppers bang you won't hear a thang
Just another man slain in Cal-if-or-ni-a
We the truth in this, the rag ruthless clique
It’s on sight in Cal-if-or-ni-a

Verse 3: (Crooked I)

You don’t like what you hear me spittin’ on your television
You got two ears, don’t you want to give me a second listen
Maybe then you can tell me what you think the records missin’
It’s missin’ me sayin’ “Fuck you” and whoever’s dissin’
Dude I fire straps then cover my tire tracks
If I say I didn’t kill ‘em, I’m lyin’ on wire taps
You got a dope sack, I’ll buy a track
Crooked I acquire stacks from writin’ them fire raps
Dirty money, I’m washin’ that, like a laundry mat
Plus I keep a quarter piece, do you Roger that?
Where my mobsters at, huh?
Won't you nod your Dodger hat
Where my conscious cats huh?
Promise I’ma conquer rap
Nigga skim through the book of my life
I’m confident you never ever met a Crook of my type
It’s like the business is my mistress and my hood is my wife
I’m puttin’ bullets in pipes for niggas who look at my ice, twice

Chorus: (Mash)

When the choppers bang you won't hear a thang
Just another man slain in Cal-if-or-ni-a
We the truth in this, the rag ruthless clique
It’s on sight in Cal-if-or-ni-a
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