[Lil' Rob Talking]   Southern California   Home of low-ridin'   Gang-bangin' and shit   California      [Chorus](Lil' Rob)   I was raised in the streets of California   (Southern California, home of car-hoppin' and   bomb-droppin'   West coast pop lockin', walkin' how we're talkin')   I was raised in the streets of California   (I was raised in Californ-I-A   Where homeboys die everyday over some shit they say)      [Verse 1]   I've always been down with hydros   And cholos, the low-lows   The six-threes, the six-fours   The rucas with no clothes   Used to drop the two-door   Gang-bang in a four door   Puttin' bullet holes   In the doors of a Ford Explorer   Hard-core, and I got more and more   Where that came from?   Welcome to my kingdom   The streets are my freedom   I need em', I feed em', I feedback   They need that, like I need my weed sack   Take a toque, wacha   Where were we at?   Oh, California the golden state   Controllin' states, pushin' weight   Where vatos like me hallucinate   Double up while you fumble up   Fuckin' up, you fuckin' punk   If there's no room   Then we'll stick em' by the fuckin' pump      [Chorus]      [Verse 2]   Slippin' and dippin', grippin' the wheel   Lockin' it up   Dump the back corner   Pop the front one up   Put the convertable top down   It's too good to stop now   This California livin'   Smoke up on the ceilin'   Party at the roof, off the hook   Got every drug up in the book   You don't believe me   See for yourself and take a closer look   Low rider car shows   Hoppin' till the truck blows   Catch me at the bar   Havin' a drink with my uncles   Pacifico with no lime   That's what I drink at all times   Creased up Davis'   I'm always out like where the pavement is   I come from the underground   The underground like where the basement is   It's California, people have a hard time facin' it      [Chorus]      [Verse 3]   Lowrider bicycles, tricycles   Cold as icycles   Smokin' chronic shit   So high, you would think my eyes are closed   I got my eyes on those   Who be thinkin' that my eyes are closed   But there not ese   Trucha when you get too close   You'll know, that I know   What you think? I don't know   I might explode, unload   Reload, and unload   You broke the code, you got's to go   Ain't no future in your frontin'   Crazy California homeboy   Where the cuete's bustin'   California stylin', California ridin'   Whittier Boulevard to 'Frisco   Then back to Highland   I gots to do it like the locos do   Don't race your ride   Hop your ride like you're supposed to do, through      [Chorus]