Old School – Без названия 0

[Verse 1]

We desperados, black guns, and gold Movados
Chrome hollows, break bones or smash bottles
Never follow, get it by yourself, that’s the motto
My heart’s cold feeling like winter in Colorado
Cali kush burning, my brain’s like a furnace
I was driving in the Benz before I ever had a permit
See this is my ? sermon and I feel that I deserve it
I remember being young, I used to spit my rhymes nervous
Now I’m on point that a javelin, way beyond battling
Out-of-state traveling, haters stop babbling
Remember this, California’s my residence
All my peoples dilated, just ask Evidence

[Chorus]

I rep the coast everywhere I go
So even when I’m overseas they know
I never front when it comes to the dough
I’m guaranteed to make a kill in the show

A lot of ran with my tank on E
Better bank on me to get more
I rep the coast everywhere I go
So even when I’m overseas they know

[Verse 2]

Hey yo my life’s similar to dice how I roll
Nothing nice, California nights ice cold
On the lookout for the police that’s on patrol
Peddling white, wrong and right, drugs get sold
We gotta eat so if that means robberies
And running in spots I’m all for it
Best believe I’m hugging the block, praying for my enemies
Instead of sending them shots, I’m hoping that you succeed
You don’t need a cellular phone to hear static
Just listen to the tune of the semi-automatic
What’s happening? My mind stay accumulate dough
And keep stacking, spend less time with the hoes
On some action, America’s favourite blunt blazing
Rhyme-writing maven, rap Wes Craven
I rose blossoming out the concrete pavement
For everyone I admire live on stage it’s the F

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]

Ev pictures classic, clients can’t imagine
Time lapse my mind on Imax graphics
Masterpiece larger than life
Throughout my section, lost Los Angeles nights
Songs of praise for him, school on Sundays
Where’s my flare? It’s a case of the Mondays
Some days are better than the next one
Yesterday I couldn’t spot a Chevron
Out of gas fast in Madagascar
Off the ? it was Chapman with a fast car
I got a fast car, ten thousand horses
No track star, themes are ferocious
I think awkward, taken for obnoxious
Less concerned with kicks than the boxes
A man lived in the shit
Sold coke out the front, out the back weed grew
Who knew the day was coming?
Phyllis Diller’s really fucking Phil Drummond
I think that deserved a drumroll
Drinking juice in the hood wasn’t fun though

[Chorus]