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						 gledam nikoj nema pisnano za CALI AGENTS , se gleda deka nikoj se nema potrudeno da gi najdi . mozi posle tekstov ke dadete mislenje
 
 
  C TOP - C... - Cali Agents Lyrics - This is My Life Lyrics
 
 [ VERSE 1: Rasco ]
 It be the raw rhyme spitterm, no glitter with no glam
 I can still turn out your whole jam
 It's nothin but fam up in the spot, nigga, ready or not
 And if you wanna see us play, put a buck in the slot
 We got dangerous plots
 Schemes and big dreams, big money themes
 I need just to feed my seed
 No greed involved, but I still stand tall
 Be spendin yo time up at the goddamn mall
 Doin things that don't mean shit
 Still lookin for tail, I'm lookin for my checks in the mail
 Without fail we bring it back to its original form
 Been doin this before you young cats was born
 Hated in my own backyard, what kinda logic is that?
 These niggas mad cause I'm bringin it fat
 In fact, I'm never broke, never blowin the smoke
 But when I'm standin in the crowd, they be knowin the quotes
 It's like, how in the hell do these cats even sell?
 Be spittin big words your ass can't even spell
 Stars and quasars, a hundred and ten bars
 Of pure rhymes, I'ma tell you one last time
 My rhyme's elite, give me 265 feet
 I might leave niggas sprawled in the street
 When you spit yours, the shit didn't sound right
 And now it's because you didn't lay it down right
 Cover your folks with all the chronic weed smoke
 You just found out that Ras didn't need folks
 I do it myself, I keep cash at the spot
 Be up in your face, whether you like Ras or not
 
 [ CHORUS ]
 
 This is my life, I gotta live it
 And if you cats really
 Don't know we gotta let y'all feel it
 It's never the same
 You know we gots to maintain
 We figured you out, we know your whole damn game (2x)
 
 
 
 [ VERSE 2: Planet Asia ]
 
 Yo, bon voyage, load the track as we take off
 I break off with explodin facts you can't shake off
 Experiment in Cali, I rep the Valley up to Central
 Hoes, flows, big dough and smashin rentals
 Cross the country like young guns bustin at you outdoors
 These backpack niggas don't even know what they out for
 Frontin like they don't want cash
 Every since I made my first g I knew I had to make shit last
 I write rhyme for rhyme, line till my mind got elaborate
 A complicated torturous arrangement on my tablet
 I'm hard-fisted, on some smoke-a-cigar-split shit
 Straight out the yard district, here to leave scars inflicted
 On your wack-ass production, the way we freak beats is unique
 You feel the heat just like a backlash or somethin
 I write fast but think slow, I keep my cash wrinkled
 Yo, catch me blowin grams in Amsterdam at Paradiso
 Pullin notchs, and not only do we rock fresh gear
 But when it comes to hip-hop, we like a breath of fresh air
 Like yeah, and just to let y'all side-busters know
 We rep the underground, but still we out to make dough
 Know what I'm sayin? 
					
  
						
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