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Crooked I
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U Shoulda Made A Phone Call
[Woman] And I'm his bitch Bonnie
{*sample plays in background*} 'How much longer, must we share this masquerade? You don't knowwww, it's just a silly little game we play, ohhh'
[Intro: Crooked I] Yeah, it's summertime in Cali-FOR-nia, ha ha I'm sendin a piece of Cali to all my real niggaz across the world My D niggaz, NICKEL! Vish', Kino Mike B, Hoover B My niggaz in Jerz, Jumpoff, yeah My niggaz in Brooklyn, Ortiz in the booth holla It's a piece of Cali, summertime huh
[Crooked I] Yo Eastside up, Westside up Northside up, Southside up Lokin lin I'm in a U.F.O. when I ride up Low tires, chrome wires, big pipes fired up (yeah) Im on the West Coast, home of the kush smoke Walkin with a cold diddy-bop like my foot broke Where the bitches got a bad mouth and good throat We slang weed but we ball like we push coke You upset seven days, you mad week/weak I get more ass than the taxi - the back seat I slap the ass of the bad freak And make a plam reader read my future from the print I left on her ass cheek If it's sunset I got a dozen whips behind me If it's beef I got a hunder Bloods And Crips behnd me Soon as I'm miked up it's live coverage of the right subject Me livin my life like FUCK YEAH!
[Chorus: K-Young] When we rollin, always smokin Fuck ya momma, fuck ya hoes and You ain't get at me when I want My niggaz tie up bandannas and sneak up on ya Like ayy-ay-AY, do or die This is a no-fly zone, call it a suicide You shoulda made a phone call You woulda been alright, alright
[Crooked I] We used to ride Impalas, now we pushin in the Benz with the Lorenzo kit, and the three-piece rims My be in Roscoe's, might be at Eminem's This Eastside L.B.C., my nigga This Pigface Weapon Waist, let me set the record straight Second-rate rappers, your neck and head fiina separate Gettin neck and head, naked sexin on the second date Eatin eggs and steak, while a fella hela celebrate (yeah!) This is Gangland, shit is outstandin My niggaz knock yo' ass OUT, without standin From a wheelchair, uppercut you in the motherfuckin air You a athiest, you never had a prayer Slaughterhouse player, you already know though A pig is our logo, but we ain't the po-po C.O.B. is my religion, let the pope know Cali is a no-fly zone, pick up the phone bro
[Chorus]
[Crooked I] Why ya wanna gangsta hate on C, O, B? Hat pulled lowm you know me Like a 10-K brick of yay a nigga low-key I be, in the back of the club, I'm in the V.I.P. I'm mackin a slut, let me see some ID Naw I don't do the Roman Polanski One thing a bitch'll never see (what?) my house key ... Ay, ay - bitches call me DREAM and say Dominick Rule Everything Around Me I got love for my hipsters and emo's This is G though, this is Deebo This is street soul, fuck the RICO Hot as gonorrhea urine in your pee-hole From here to Indonesia I rep the two fingers twisted between your pinkie and trigger squeezers
[Chorus] [Outro: Sauce the Boss] Yeah nigga, you know what it is You heard it from the boss; mouth Thios is C-motherfuckin-O-Bosses And I;m Sauce the Boss, the primse minister of Watts nigga And this is a no-fly zone, you get it? Nogga this is a no-fly zone
{'A silly little game we play, ohhh'}
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