Lyrics:
of the stars'Hotel
California' goes around in my headAnd the folks who
are loaded keep a gun by the bedBut you can't help
but notice....The poor wind up dead.
Who's that little girl by the record machine
Playing songs that I like
She's real cute man, she's looking kinda mean
Maybe just my type
So little
Now painted ladies want to hold my gun
Wonder if the whole time if I'd been acting
When I sang "Moon River" in that silent film
Had I really made
want no drama boy 'cause we the drama kings
And you don't want no anna boy 'cause we the anna kings
Don't even talk about guns 'cause we quick to sling
the california crime rate, niggas is dyin
gotta get that money so I, load a clip in 4-5
ever since my brother died
been on a murder mission with pistols, hollywood
revolution
Gun bang, forever shoot and run fam
Get your Uzi love thing
Retribution Timberland boots, leather gooses
In the undisclosed black bulletproof
With
watched some homies leave (damn)
Thank God, I found out he a rat before the cheese (thank you)
In the California sun, I'm rockin' shorter sleeves
Some
Guns go off, Shams is a Raiders fan
A rhyming gallop reporter, columns are lost
White five, black five with dollars to toss
Twisted by the dark side
mixed it up with white runtz
He been talking tough for Twitter, boy you really fuckin' up
Today I met a girl from California, we been fornicating
California was a dream
And I got so much inspiration from two trips to NYC
Cause music and travel's the only things that keep my mind at ease like
La, la, la
in his arms, broken
A young mind distorted emotions, is there an upside?
His brother got murdered up North by milletas
Ma-ma, battlin', cancer,
Waves like California
We just left the party
We're just tryna' kick it
Not fuck with nobody
Living for the moment
Just having a good time
Celebrating
anyway
Busy predicting the next big thing
So why bother with changing scenery?
Why pack up the car and move to California?
Why not paint by number
Catchy
out, all are in control
Certified son of a gun, learns life lesson 101
Don't fly too high on your own supply
Get burnt by the sun
'Cause in the city
Rocky had come equipped with a gun
To shoot off the legs of his rival
His rival it seems had broken his dreams
By stealing the girl of his fancy.
Her
We watch the cars drive by
They replace the stars in LA skies
It's kinda hard to find
A single one in county lines
But I bet that their shining
know if I can park or not
Cause I circle like vultures, La Costa Nostra
Bumpin' all the baddest bitches like I'm 'posed to
What's yo name, what's yo
of Compton)
(City of Compton
(L.A.)
(L.A.)
(L.A.)
(California)
(California)
(California)
(California)
(Good old Watts) -
a ticket
And you can't make jokes about bombs or guns, or Osama bin Laden
They take that seriously
Pick a city they'll get you there
It's not half the time,
Vampire f-ck-d up your evening
I pop up and eat lunch, lave you in the cement
Don't believe it, stripe like a f***ing Adidas
The gun Selena, give a n****
(la-da-da-da-da)
Yeah
Well, well
I know, I know, I know
Yeah
Mama put me out at only fourteen
So I start sellin' crack cocaine and codeine
Time to stack
brought up in Gardena California
Uh she started tuggin' an rubbin' on the Swoop
I'm wastin' my drink swervin in my rag 6 duce
Uh you didn't know I
I'm so enamored by you
Let me show you what this stamina do
I need you all up on my camera too
So there's proof of the damage you, oh god damnit you
to California
Where people fake it 'till they make it
Or take it with their hand gun
Take your chances, swing, try to land one
Now you're in the box like
.jpg/300px-GNR_London_Stadium_2017_3_(cropped).jpg "Guns N' Roses")
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