California - E-40, Dâm-Funk, Ariel Pink

West Coast!

Y’all picked the right person to bring this shit to life

I’mma speak some real this

This how that shit go down

I’m the soul narrator

It’s zany on these dumping grounds

Don’t be slippin' with your pants down

They got some big shit hundred rounds

That’ll knock you out your shoes and spin your neck around

Crooked cops, crooked dice, crooked streets

Dark guns, dark alleys, dark reefs

Don’t get fooled by the palm trees and the beach

They wake your ass up, put the pistol to your teeth

Where the safe at?

Where the shoe box?

Where your duffel, patna?

Lost souls, they don’t believe in karma

The fast lane, fast cars, fast cash

Bad bitches, big titties, big ass (who out here?)

Celebrities and socialites

Pimps, gangstas, and hustlas under the streetlights

They’ll run up on ya, make sure you with some real ones

When you come in California

Even when it’s flying high

Watching the weather

Up above, the city skies

And gettin' it together

California, California

Cali, the land of opportunity

San Quintin and Silicon Valley

Where they learn to play the corner

Where they play with drumsticks that’ll go through body armour

In the Pacific to be specific (what they like to do?)

Where they’ll follow you on the freeway

Catch you gettin' off an exit when you least expect it

Unexpected, in the middle of the daylight where the traffic hectic

Bold, cold, these judges ain’t plannin' on gettin' old, old

Got hit now he layin' up in the road, road

His mama outside up in her robe, robe (her robe?)

(Where you from?) West Coast!

You sick out this bitch, as I squash like this

The fog and the mist (West Coast!)

I yell that shit out, that’s all that I know, that’s how that shit go

Even when it’s flying high

Watching the weather

Up above and try hard to

Get it together

California, California

Up above the cities skies in California

And soon we’ll be flying high in California

In California