Game – Cali Sunshine Lyrics

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[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 chained 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]

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