Текст песни If "U" Were Me - Dyablo , C-Blunt , KAZ

Yeah, El Catrin all up in your grill
Along with my boy Blunt and my dawg Diablo
Representin' California (California, baby)
Puttin' it down on your ass (Yeah, on your ass)

Transaction with million dollar suitcases
Mocha lakes with ankle bracelets, can you taste it?
Ran the world like I made it
My hair ain't braided, but damn, I'm faded
I bought a house, a car, and an Armani suit right after I weighed it
Three-day cruise, brand new shoes, cops actin' rude, fuck the blues
You ain't a victim of society
You're either prey or predator, how do I know?
'Cause the fake don't make the cheddar
Scrunchie on the streets, that ain't us, we got tons of buds
So leave the field of proud, run with us
Hear us bangin' from town to town
Hood or hood, how do you say it?
It's all good, we got bud on branches
Lap dances, opportunities, and chance advancements
Fools actin' scandalous, San Ber'dino, kilo
Bitch, I'll stick my rifle in your peephole

If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now
If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now

Now what's the difference when you divide the dogs who hot
To those who not? You can't, they lack to lock
I'm pro, you not, clever when I drop
Leather when I hock, shock if you want me to rock that capital C
Why y'all bitches hatin' on me?
It's like 'quino got the gas, blunt with cash from San Ber'dino
With Diablo from S.D., you see
Latinos who bank like casinos, y'all couldn't fuck with me
We're the reason why you reach for the P
The reason why your ass floatin' in the middle of the sea
Can't meet, we easily do what you can't for me
You can't so G, you lack the flow, don't rock the show
I steal your ho, known for keepin' it low
I'm known for diggin' it deep in dimes, feelin' me, bro?
Feelin' the rhyme, tired of all you bitches who whine
No stoppin', I continue cockin' my nine, gotta keep gettin' mine

If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now
If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now

Es el dinero, es el alcohol
La marihuana a lo mejor
Son los diamantes, el oro
Mis mujeres, es el miedo que tú tienes
Si me buscas, ahí me tienes porque
Desde la tierra azteca ya llegó El Profeta
Y en este juego siempre tumbo yo al que se entrometa
Mientras te escondes, yo me encuentro riendo
Me encuentro cerca, tú te vas corriendo
Porque tú sabes que han llegado
Un trío azteca bien armado
Con un cuete en cada mano y es de un lado
Es Julio César El Catrín y El Profeta
Voy predicando yo tu fin y es la neta
La diferencia entre tú y yo consiste
En que yo nunca juego como tú lo hiciste
Y con mi 32 yo tengo pa' los dos
Y se las voy metiendo siempre de dos en dos

If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now
If you were me, in a convertible Jag with the top down
If you were me with a gun to your head and still wouldn't back down
If you were me with a platinum crown
If you were me, you'd probably be one of the best now