Cali Sunshine lyrics

Artist  : Game 
Song : Cali Sunshine



 Send "Cali Sunshine" Ringtone to your Cell 

 [Chorus]

California sunshine, in the summer
time [4x]



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



[Chorus]



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.



[Chorus]



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.



[Chorus]