Crooked I - U Shoulda Made a Phone Call lyrics

{*sample plays in background*} "How much longer, must we share this masquerade? You don't knowwww, it's just a silly little game we play, ohhh" [Intro: Crooked I] Yeah, it's summertime in Cali-FOR-nia, ha ha I'm sendin a piece of Cali to all my real n***as across the world My D n***as, NICKEL! Vish', Kino Mike B, who but me? My n***as in Jerz, Jumpoff, yeah My n***as in Brooklyn, Ortiz in the booth holla It's a piece of Cali, summertime huh [Verse 1] Yo Eastside up, Westside up Northside up, Southside up Lookin like I'm in a U.F.O. when I ride up Low tires, chrome wires, big pipes fired up (yeah) I'm on the West Coast, home of the kush smoke Walkin with a cold diddy-bop like my foot broke Where the b**hes got a bad mouth and good throat We slang weed but we ball like we push coke You upset seven days, you mad week/weak I get more a** than the taxi - the back seat I slap the a** of a bad freak And make a palm reader read my future from the print I left on her a** cheek If it's sunset I got a dozen whips behind me If it's beef I got a hundred Bloods and Crips behind me Soon as I'm miked up it's live coverage of the right subject Me livin my life like fu*k YEAH! [Hook: K-Young] When we rollin, always smokin f** ya momma, f** ya hoes and You ain't get at me when I want My n***as tie up bandannas and sneak up on ya Like ayy-ay-AY, do or die This is a no-fly zone, call it a suicide You shoulda made a phone call You woulda been alright, alright [Verse 2] We used to ride Impalas, now we pushin in the Benz With the Lorenzo kit, and the three-piece rims My be in Roscoe's, might be at Eminem's This Eastside L.B.C., my n***a This Pigface Weapon Waist, let me set the record straight Sceond-rate rappers, your neck and head finna separate Gettin neck and head, naked s**in on the second date Eatin eggs and steak, while a fella hella celebrate (yeah!) This is Gangland, sh** is outstandin My n***as knock yo' a** OUT, without standin From a wheelchair, uppercut you in the motherf**in air You a athiest, you never had a prayer Slaughterhouse player, you already know though A pig is our logo, but we ain't the po-po C.O.B. is my religion, let the pope know Cali is a no-fly zone, pick up the phone bro [Hook] [Crooked I] Why ya wanna... gangsta hate on C, O, B? Hat pulled low, you know me Like a 10-K brick of yay a n***a low-key I be, in the back of the club, I'm in the V.I.P I'm mackin a s*ut, let me see some ID Naw I don't do the Roman Polanski One thing a b**h'll never see (what?) my house key ... Ay, ay - b**hes call me DREAM And say Dominick Rule Everything Around Me I got love for my hipsters and emo's This is G though, this is Deebo This is street soul, f** the RICO Hot as gonorrhea urine in your pee-hole From here to Indonesia I rep the two fingers twisted between your pinkie and trigger squeezers [Hook] [Outro: Sauce the Boss] Yeah n***a, you know what it is You heard it from the boss' mouth This is C-motherf**in-O-Bosses And I'm Sauce the Boss, the prime minister of Watts n***a And this is a no-fly zone, you get it? n***a this a no-fly zone