Текст песни Bouncing In My Lolo - Caliber

Something about L.A
That keeps you coming back
Next time you in L.A
You better have your strap
Something about L.A
That keeps you coming back (Come on)
Next time you in L.A (Yeah)
You better have your strap

Something about this city
Cruising, bumping Duwap Diddy
All the truth of the hell and the hate with me
Got the nation all around with me
Don't need no movie clips, this is real life
Plenty stories under the street lights
To survive, it's gonna take a damn fight
You got snitches and bitches at the one time
In the midst of it all, still carry love
Pride for our home so we throwing up them dubs (West side)
Guerrilleros, Inca Warriors, California
This is home to us
We all suspects (Motorcycle), we some hard heads
Everywhere we go, L.A. rags
Redwood sliding through in the Cadillac
Grind 'til we die, after yo' stack

Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow
Bounce and hear my low low
Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow (Haha)
Bounce and hear my low low

I'm in a Fleetwood Cadillac, black on tan (Sup)
Big redwood cannon in my hand
Leaning to the left, make that three wheel stand (Uh)
Sign an autograph 'cause your girl's my fan
Then I dipped out to the V.I.P (What's up playa?)
Drinks on the house and it's all on me (I got it homie, I got it)
Dope old school DJ Tone G (Tone)
I got a gang of weed and some Hennessy
I got the Platinum Patrón with a twist of lime
I got a bitch in the back with a big behind
I got a view of the city, see the big lights shine
Suspects are some fools but they friends of mine
L.A. bandana wrapped on my face (Sup)
I'ma do dirt but never catch a case (Ha)
And I'ma do work and steady rock the place (Yeah)
So come on sexy mama, let me pull that lace (Come here, come here)

Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow
Bounce and hear my low low
Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow
Bounce and hear my low low

You broke-ass is weak (Haha), we stay on the creep (Come on)
Lick you off your feet, some bustas don't sleep (Yeah)
You knee-deep like the 'Reese again
Put a slug to your brain, y'all know the name
Sonny Toso's West side, do more to maintain
Got my dick covered by my chain 'cause the hand Glock (Yeah)
Kill with precision, they call me Murdock
Get got by one shot that I point and pop (Uh)
Let your movement drop, then your body stop
In the land of the floss, hustle every day like Rick Ross
I'm putting work like a hip toss
You so bitch like Kate Moss (Kate)
You so bitch wearing lip gloss
Your bullshit's gonna cost
Only West Coast burners get played in the
Gimme the money, the pussy, and a blind
So I can stay creased up, motherfucker

Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow
Bounce and hear my low low
Crack the fo'-oh
Spits like a .44
Let the cannons blow
Bounce and hear my low low