We Rest N Cali (feat. Goldie Loc And Bootsy Collins)

We Rest N Cali (feat. Goldie Loc And Bootsy Collins)

Snoop Dogg

My goodness, my gracious, shell told a beat us with the fat blue racist
Hand full of aces, trumped up dumb trunk white wall paces
Drink till you drop, motherfucker cop
Old English, 800 on the block,
Way before sane eyes came to the spot
Niggers used to hang out, and do the pop lot
And if we got into some shit, we never pop shots
We walk, scrap whatever he was
And live to talk about it then we get old 'cause
We keep a pack of zig zags for that good old bug
We do a house party, what the fuck is a club

And S.A. they sold most of the drugs
Laugh a million, hell yeah we thug, we getting money, yeah
And we do no ride, represented and talk
Nope, nope, not I, that's the code
In every hood, that you roam
Fastest way to catch a hot slug and you don't
OG, the pace I call home, black lack like that and you're sitting on chrome
Black and back strapping like antennas way up on a rat trying to set a new trap
Swinging the track, dripping curl juice in your back
Breaking hearts like Roger is out, motherfucker

Back in the days, keepin' and keepin'
Gettin' high with your friends and smokin' the reefer
The bad is in town
Some say we the next generation, but we lack education

Grace the awards drinking mad dog 20/20
Silver satin, blue ?
I got my lopes on, selling through my neighborhood
Catch you slipping on them bricks, that ain't no good
Front no kicker, Glocks spitter
Black and gold flack across my face when I get you
Three women tipping, turning up the alpine sure
I'm fakin' something while I listen to the grape vine
Got a blue pits all by the front door,
East side rip rod and gang banging all I know
Heartbreak hotel hush puppy neck kicker
I grew upon on that crazy one five nigger
If you elope from my block then hop some
And I ain't talking 'bout no peel nigger block

Blue corduroys while I'm talking on my brick phone
Fourteen years old had to bring the shit home
My sugar bear show me how to bag it up
Look at the block now nigger it's sold up
I ain't playing with ya old grand poobahs
South of rhyme don't make things with no cuss
Now take a picture of this eight ball sipper
Look down at my shoes blue strains
Goldie Loc keep this motherfucker crackin' like it
The only thing I wanna hear is bang bang rappa

Some say we the next generation, but we lack education
Hanging with the crew of devastation
Yeah but we one nation ball
Tally ho and away we go, see you next week with a brand new show
When we fuck around it ain't nothing consensual
You know I funk so hard, you gonna need your parent's credentials
Now I'm in the street, cause I lost my sheet
But now I know where to find it

Now how cool is called when you're trying to compete
Standing next to me son, you better take a seat
Can't none of you customers funk like me
You better check with Snoop Doggy
Why oh why do I think like that
If I am with the dog then you must be a cat
Now tally ho and away we go, see you next week with a brand new show
I want the funk I want that OG
There's a party going on in my head
While I think about the blood that we shed
Them party, oh get up playa play
There's a party going on up in here

Back in the day, of the keeper and the keeper
Gettin' high with your friends and smokin' the reefer
And pound fro pound we were the baddest in town
You just had to get up for the endo

Some say we the next generation, but we lack education
Yeah but we won nation ball
Hanging with the snoopatronics bobble

Written by BROADUS, CALVIN / PORTER, DENAUN M / TROUTMAN, ROGER / TROUTMAN, LARRY / SPILLMAN, KEIWAN / COLLINS, WILLIAM EARL 'BOOTSY'
Published by EMI Music Publishing, A SIDE MUSIC LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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