THE GAME – California

(People trying)
[Game:] Tryna to do what?
(To find a way out)
[Game:] Oh, yeah! That was me in 2004
(Love ain’t around)
[Game:] Ain’t never been around
(Look at California)
[DJ Skee:] Just like we back again
[Game:] Yeah
[Skee:] Fresh of that Purp & Patron
[Game:] That’s right
[Skee:] This is The Hangover
[Game:] Every time you look at me…
[Skee:] And I just landed back in. Live from LA
[Game:] …You look at California
[Skee:] I’m the world famous DJ Skee
[Game:] I am the Westside
[Skee:] I told you I’m only dropping classics
Reppin’ that Westcoast. Yo Game, I don’t think they ready

Palm trees, beautiful women
Drop top phantom now this is living
Started off chopping crack in my grandma kitchen
But y’all know that, so let’s get down to bidness
Outta towners beware, of what you wear
“Yo son, I’m from New York,” but we don’t care
The Crips, the Bloods, the Esé’s. The daytons, the dogs, the chevys
What you know about Cali and everything I rate
Nigga I make the dinner you be sure to scrape the plate
From Compton’s Most to N.W.A
From Snoop Dogg Dr. Dre, niggas love us
What about the bitches? You mean these bitches bouncing in my back seat while my Impala hit switches?
They riding with the king, a California king
If it ain’t about that it ain’t ’bout a motherfucking thing
I’m living the American Dream
Sitting fat but I don’t sing
I don’t fuck wit rats if you know what I mean
You thinking 50 but I am talking Christina Milian
Sucked a million dicks but still ain’t sold a million
Bitch trying to get a ride like a Milian
I know you like, “What this gotta do in LA?”
Bitch tried to fuck me and she almost fucked Dre so…

Yeah, slow this shit down man
I’ma let California fuck you now
That’s right
Yeah, how it feel?
Y’know California niggas
Got big dicks, big trucks, big mouths, big guns
We’ll fuck you all night

Straight RnB
Black Wall Street Records we don’t play no games
I mean after 4 hours we’ll fuck you off on a nigga
I got the houses; here, Miami
Condo in New York, condo in Wilshire
I done lived in Beverly Hills
Look down the street at Range Rovers, Bentleys and Phantoms passing by
As the wind blows through my motherfucking, fades
Niggas know what it is wit me nigga
California king and that’s for life
Don’t give a fuck what a nigga say

Let me introduce ya, to something you not used to
I’m California’s future
Sit back watch what I do to
These Dre beats, these Timbaland tracks
I just blazed and my spit crack
I Scott Storch em we can’t afford em
Every hot producer seen Game record
My flow outta this word, like Neptunes
California was dying, I came to the rescue
First time Snoop Dogg ever heard me spit
His reply was like, “Damn, nephew”
That was ’05
And I was so eleven, four hours, six years I’m ahead of my time
I let you niggas be LeBron
Even he can’t see Kobe in his prime
Picture Kobe in Lebrons
That’s too much game I’m outta my mind
And that’s a hot line
I think niggas wanna hear me say that one more time
Picture Kobe in Lebrons
That’s too much game I’m outta my mind
Outta my soul
Been having outta body experiences since I was 7 years old
Look at California he ain’t scared
Shot a deuce five ‘fore he had Nike Airs
My pops like, “There go the block”
I’m like, “Where?”
Brass knuckles in my Levi’s never fight fair
20 years later I’m right here
Red rag wiping off all white Airs
Let a nigga step on em. I’ma go Wycleff on him
Could go Raekwon the Chef on him
Throwing up a dub, bangin’ Wu-Tang
Riding with a chopper like a young Hussein
In a new Range
Fuck wit the Crips but I’m from the P.I.R.U gang
Momma I did it. You told me to so I spit it
I don’t just talk Cali I live it
From Aftermath to sit wit it I’m sick wit it
So nigga admit it
You’ll never be Game
Never be Pac, never be Doggy Dogg
I don’t know why you spit cos nigga you ain’t shit
You writing for Detox? Nigga suck my dick
Me and Hittman, did that before
First mailman left then I seen the trap door
Came in from the back
Nobody could stop him
Not EVE, Busta Rhymes or Rakeem
And Bust my nigga, so I would never diss him
Fuck over any other rapper with Henny in my system
Who want it? Not Jigga
I’m treacherous like trigger
I’m Naughty by Nature nigga with more priors than Richard
And I can say whatever cos I made Jimmy Iovine richer
And he get richer every time I call you a bitch ass nigga
Let Chris Bosh run up on Kobe again
I’ma catch him in the club and open his chin
Cos I ride or die for this Cali shit
Break a nigga off proper like a valley bitch
I chop a nigga down like a brick of raw
I’m notorious like Biggy Smalls
I know he from New York but he like me
Last thing I wanna do ‘fore I D.I.E. is
Look at, look at, look at California [repeats]…

I know New York the mecca of hip hop
A-town stay doing their thing
Chi-town breed Kanye and motherfucking Common
Sometimes y’all gotta look at California
Ay yo Jimmy Iovine, tell Dre these headphones the shit