Cali-Tex Connect

Come, slip into my darkness

Stopless, got rich

Puttin' on the hot hits

With true convicts

Block this studio

Three month blackout

Rap out the bad route

And those who had doubt

Mad shouts to all my boys at the crackhouse

Catchin' every sucker who done ran south

Stand proud

But I can't see behind these damn clouds

Me and little John Gotti rockin' eighty grand crowds

Fresh off the back streets

Concrete, father figure

**** shiver when I deliver

Blastin', hollerin', timber

Talk is cheap and most y'all a crock a shit

I chop a brick and flip it like the opposite

'Cause all my chickens layin' thirty six eggs

Got recruits in black boots that never shoot for the legs

No sunshine

Streets in my bloodline

Love's blind

Understand my thug mind

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

Smokin' on smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

We smokin' on that smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks

I stand in the sunset

Hand on my pistola

Late night red rum

Lost at Sinaloa

Down on the docks in Diego

Art Lupo in the Lexus

Movin' weight to Houston Texas

Got a chicken

Finger lickin' and it's all good

And then I hook up South Park Mex big green bag of cess

Hoppin' up and down like a kangaroo

In my sky blue '62

Now, now what you wanna do?

We make shit move like pounds and ki's

Ain't nobody who can fuck with these west coast G's

(What you tell 'em, homie?)

(What you tell 'em, loco?)

Man, ain't nobody who fuck with these gulf coast G's

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

Smokin' on smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

We smokin' on that smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks

Hobby airpot, flight two, seven, six

Pick up the homie, Frost

Let's get in the mix

Now we up and creased out

Puffin' green Garcia y Vega's

Mackin' to a cheerleader from the Oakland Raiders

Yo, Frost, peep game, check the silicone titties

Yeah, homes, man they remind me of the ones in my city

'Cause I been around the world

All kinds of girls

I'm a little John Gotti

Duke duke of Earl

ShyTown, Atlantic City

Vegas and Reno

We Latino Gambino's

And we breakin' casinos

It's the SPM

AKA Caro Quintero

Just me and my perros

Flyin' through the ghetto

With seven pounds of fierro

El mero mero

Puttin' it down with that hazel eyed guero

Me no rayo , flippin' gallos , hittin' hydros

I'm the one that's got 'em floatin' in them bayous

SPM, are you with it?

La neta

Dos vatos viviendo la vida chueca

Dos vatos, poco loco

Pachando el sospechoso

Así trabaja ese juego

Mi palabra es todo lo que tengo

En el monte

El coyote

Con los ojos que miran en la noche

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

Smokin' on smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks

From Tex to Cali

Every hood, every alley

We smokin' on that smelly in the candy coated Caddy

Bendin' blocks on Goldy Locks

Seventeen shots

Cops, swearin' to God we sellin' rocks