California brought to you by Big Bad Los Angeles.
Four or five north,
four to ten west will get you there
if you got an hour to spare.
Traffic stays backed up to the pier, you hear?
Clear shot down finish drag race.
Pass Woodbine Park where Snoop Dogg caught his murder case.
Where we hung in the day,
bumping that purple tape.
Back where Milks used to live on region plates.
BLX crew creates out the crates.
Six cats, a four track, one take.
*, we them cats that had that one take.
You bum four years straight with no * break.
Fools know the M.O.
and can't hate.
We do our own thing and that's about to be your thing.
Just wait.
Poms.
Poms.
California brought to you by Big Bad Los Angeles.
Los Angeles, throw up your handkerchiefs.
I'm worldwide.
*** your atlases.
But when you want to come see me,
you know where the palace is.
And I'm the landlord here.
* the managers.
Need somewhere to crash or live?
Get at us.
We've been running every unit since the spot was run by old
school crips with shot glasses and yak in they tool kits.
My folks is in the walls like the roaches.
Every APT a party.
When it's not just lifestyles that are almost homeless.
Word to Jesse in the parking lot,
sleeping in a focus.
Run the * like the Carter slash Godfather
with palm trees larger than Jakarta's.
Might look like a vacation,
but everyone's job one is maintaining.
I ain't playing.
Poms.
You
heard some dude dropped dead in front of the market.
My sister's truck got boosted in front of the apartment.
The new building owners trying to start
* just got back from the * housing
department, had to bail a neighbor out.
Didn't want to, but I did.
Had a handcuffed in front of a kid.
Mrs. Brown stays in dialysis.
What was me?
A grandson with the all blue truck got bucked off a Normandy.
Few folks walking out of Saints getting shot.
And the SWAT team just dropped on Mexican block.
Some cat trying to jack Radio Shack.
Cops caught him by the donut shop.
He pulled gap, fade to black.
RIP Monica Beresford.
Strangled by her husband.
Everyone on Venice heard.
The people downstairs just got a bad call.
I heard screaming.
And now half of Pakistan's down there.
And ain't no * money out here.
Every store window says for sale.
Cali's on the rails.
Make your rent is hell.
And in the end, half the homies had to move.
Yeah, I'm saving your mail.
Don't know how long I'll stay around.
Fingers crossed my lady takes me back and we can move out of town.
Everybody is on their way somewhere else.
But here's where some of us found ourselves.
Poms.