Вершы:
Blown Paper Bags

out the hood into a bigger house That's why you never trip I'm grindin' bump a 9-5 Gotta get this money, paper callin' but you never whine Gotta ask the cash come with bags

fuck up to my index Bench press rappers doing sets with my Syntax Ain't nothin' new motherfucker, man I been black Impact, remember Malcom X wore a pimp hat You paper

Old dro bottles and blow, blowin' from both zones Layin' in them Tahoes we own the projo's Three for tenement we in the lobby with the big dan dun a nan

Every Pussy That's With Em Put Em In The Trunk, Tell Em Let's Have Fun No Noise Frapertate On The End Of The Gun My Boys Givn Paper Just As Quick As

AGAIN GOT HIS UPFRONT MONEY SELLIN BLOW AGAIN REAL NIGGAS DO REAL THINGS SO GO FIGURE THATS WHY I SPIT REAL SHIT 4 DA DOPE DEALERRS LOW KEY IN THA CAR TO DA DUFFEL BAGS

died down, its baskin an dried out, sparks poppin from the ground it's commin out my mouth, bitch don't get mad, go get yo bags an roll wit it, or stay

rob bags in the staircase, no mask, bare-faced The one police wouldn't dare chase Keep my gear laced do I walk around without papers? No way pal Word

Unless your bullet proof-la what's your affiliation You just a rat handin' out information You wanna run and said Clef took my paper Clef ain't take your paper

not 'cause california niggas strive try to come up quick and if you cant hold your own well take your shit [Chorus: 2x] california hustlas chase paper all day california smokers blow