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  • Текст песни Cali Agents - This is My Life

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    Тут находится текст песни Cali Agents - This is My Life, а также перевод, видео и клип.

    [ VERSE 1: Rasco ]
    It be the raw rhyme spitterm, no glitter with no glam
    I can still turn out your whole jam
    It's nothin but fam up in the spot, nigga, ready or not
    And if you want to see us play, put a buck in the slot
    We got dangerous plots
    Schemes and big dreams, big money themes
    I need just to feed my seed
    No greed involved, but I still stand tall
    Be spendin yo time up at the goddamn mall
    Doin things that don't mean shit
    Still lookin for tail, I'm lookin for my checks in the mail
    Without fail we bring it back to its original form
    Been doin this before you young cats was born
    Hated in my own backyard, what kinda logic is that?
    These niggas mad cause I'm bringin it fat
    In fact, I'm never broke, never blowin the smoke
    But when I'm standin in the crowd, they be knowin the quotes
    It's like, how in the hell do these cats even sell?
    Be spittin big words your ass can't even spell
    Stars and quasars, a hundred and ten bars
    Of pure rhymes, I'ma tell you one last time
    My rhyme's elite, give me 265 feet
    I might leave niggas sprawled in the street
    When you spit yours, the shit didn't sound right
    And now it's because you didn't lay it down right
    Cover your folks with all the chronic weed smoke
    You just found out that Ras didn't need folks
    I do it myself, I keep cash at the spot
    Be up in your face, whether you like Ras or not

    [ CHORUS ]
    This is my life, I gotta live it
    And if you cats really
    Don't know we gotta let y'all feel it
    It's never the same
    You know we gots to maintain
    We figured you out, we know your whole damn game (2x)

    [ VERSE 2: Planet Asia ]
    Yo, bon voyage, load the track as we take off
    I break off with explodin facts you can't shake off
    Experiment in Cali, I rep the Valley up to Central
    Hoes, flows, big dough and smashin rentals
    Cross the country like young guns bustin at you outdoors
    These backpack niggas don't even know what they out for
    Frontin like they don't want cash
    Every since I made my first g I knew I had to make shit last
    I write rhyme for rhyme, line till my mind got elaborate
    A complicated torturous arrangement on my tablet
    I'm hard-fisted, on some smoke-a-cigar-split shit
    Straight out the yard district, here to leave scars inflicted
    On your wack-ass production, the way we freak beats is unique
    You feel the heat just like a backlash or somethin
    I write fast but think slow, I keep my cash wrinkled
    Yo, catch me blowin grams in Amsterdam at Paradiso
    Pullin notches, and not only do we rock fresh gear
    But when it comes to hip-hop, we like a breath of fresh air
    Like yeah, and just to let y'all side-busters know
    We rep the underground, but still we out to make dough
    Know what I'm sayin?

    [ CHORUS ]

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