Look At California

[Intro: Bishop Lamont]
Yeah, get a real good look. I know you see the shit on TV
See the shit in magazines. That ain't us. Niggas be on Sunset & Melrose
Think that's really the streets or somethin'
They shoppin' at the Beverly Center
You gotta come on this side to see the real shit

[Verse 1: Bishop Lamont]
Look at Cali, not Hollywood Hills and the valley
More towards the 1-10 south
Where behind trash bins fiends binge in a dirty alley
They eyes wide shut off the crack and the smack
Where Arnold Swartzenigger ain't given a fuck
And the bitches ain't either
Got to spend a couple bucks
Workin' on a blade or they momma said
"Only fuck with niggas that's paid"
On some Robin Givens shit
Or Tracy Edmonds for cheddar man
So they lookin' for a Laker or a rap advance
Hangin' up in area, L.A.X
Regular can be a carrier, get murdered by sex
Pushin' Lambos or Bentley's up Sunset
A Hollywood nigga, I ain't met a real one yet
So I stays to my own kind
I'm only over there when it's studio time

[Hook]
"Look at California"

[Mistah F.A.B. talking]
Whow, whow. We outty. Mistah F.A.B. Okay
I happen to be the prince of the coast
Ah yes sir. And if you don't like me sayin' that
Come see me. Holla at me
I'm probably at an event near you. I'm everywhere
Or follow me on Twitter!
It's in your hood and you're not even goin'. Hahaha

[Verse 2: Mistah F.A.B.]
All the trees, the weed women and cars
The G's and the gents and all the movie stars
I can prove to y'all that there's no other state
The weather here is great, besides the earthquakes
And in line, you never have to wait
When you ballin' with cake
Money moves, money makes
In all seasons, all reasons to hook good
Make you all understand cause California look good
From the streets to the slopes
Got the best producers, best rappers and the best dope
But
Stayin' positive, hustlin' how you got to live
Magic gave back even though he was positive
My bad that was negative
Cali ain't small, matter of fact man, it's hecka big
If you ain't gettin' money it's irrelevant
One west homie, they should let us in

[Hook]

[Crooked I talking]
Yeah. Haha. What's up Reality? Whoo, jeah, haha
That's only a suggestion
I'm only throwin' ideas into the universe. Jeah. Haha
Whoo, jeah, it's Crooked nigga. Focus

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Yo, I ain't drove a lowrider in years
I just end songwriter's careers
I'm from a state that manufacture hate
So they biggest fear is co-signin' they peers
But my hot flow fry engineers
Sharp words pierce both sides of your ears
Why won't I disappear?
Cause I'm flier than overlookin' the whole coastline in a Lear
Melrose, I'm shoppin' at Fred Segal
Don't buy skinny jeans, can't tuck my Des Eagle
Fuck, my bread's legal
But the portion of my fortune that's not
Gets buried like dead people
In my backyard
Fans act hard
They wanna charge the rap god with tax fraud
I'm just tryin' to take it from the street corner
To the corner office
Where the boss is

[Hook]