Cali Sunshine

[Hook: Bilal] California Sunshine, in the summer time (Repeat x4) [Verse 1: Game] Last year Jazze Pha got stuck up inside the Grand Lux The most recent was 50 in Angola, that's what's up Any rapper can get touched, any bitch can get fucked Under the California sun, impalas and big trucks They say Suge got knocked out, but don't play that nigga cheap Cus your body might wash up by the courts of Venice Beach Ain't shit sweet but my shwisha, ain't shit buzzin but my liquor Cali chickens go to the Ada strip and come back a little thicker With more ass than Delicious, that's my Flavor of Love We make it rain like Rain Man when he played with the glove I'm the King to you pawn niggas Punisher, spawn niggas Playing in green, Paul Pierce to you LeBron niggas We done barbeque, front and back lawn niggas Summer Jam, throw your ass off stage, Akon niggas We drink Kool-Aid with the ice on your arm nigga Take that Champion hoodie off in the California Sunshine [Hook] [Verse 2: Game] I'm in my drop top Phantom, down Wilshire Boulevard We can't find Biggie's killers so we gave Puffy a Star And I'm by far, Hollywood Boulevard But I'm from a boulevard that taught y'all how to shoot out of moving cars Remember New Jersey Drivers like an East Coast Menace And Belly was like the sequel without O-Dog in it Give me a New York Minute To show you Cali got more dead bodies than the Yankees got New York pennants Cuz we Dodgers in Impalas with the windows tinted I duck shots when Venus and Serena used to play tennis And they never came back like throwing a boomerang flat See me I'm posted like a Cincinnati 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 Caine trap If you slipping in Hollywood and you get your chain snatched I know some niggas that owe some niggas I'll get your chain back [Hook] [Verse 3: Game] Niggas already know who had the marijuana first We birthdays in sour diesel, I was there when the water burst Hell naw we don't surf, We halfway go to church Tell you the truth, shit, right now I'm in a fucking 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 10 years before you see a MC Ren here Where he been I've been there, that Lambo I'm in there Hotter than the beginning of my career with 50, Dre and Em there Top off the Murcielago like Victoria's Secret swimwear So listen I'm so sincere 'bout to work out like gym wear Murder MTV's Top 10 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 off the Top 10, you fucking bastards, Bilal [Hook]