[Intro: The Game]
California ain't a state, it's a army!

[Verse 1: The Game]
One motherfucker in the projects killin'
The same motherfucker that'll would burn down the village
Where the chronic blunt full of that you know
Who gon' take you back to Compton In that '64 two door
Sub woofers in the trunk kickin' that "Lethal Injection"
A hood n***a lost with no direction
So he bought a black Smith & Wesson
Strapped on his vest and that's his protection
At the intersection waitin' on the rival
Cause in the city of Angels, it's all about survival
Fuck the 5-0, They wanna see you DOA
Welcome to LA
Where the ghetto birds flyin over my auntie's and my cousin's house
Tell me what they buzzin 'bout
The little homie got smoked on the corner
And now his momma cryin', dead in Califronia

[Chorus: Ice Cube & The Game]
Motherfuckers ain't gon' learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
[Verse 2: The Game]
Jumped in my Impala, took a trip to the swap meet
To scoop up "Ego Trippin" and some white T's
Cause some n***as in my old hood don't like me
Time to put the n***as on check like my Nike's
Shoulda heard my my n***a Mack 10 on the chirp
All I need is me and my bitch, if you scared go to church
Cause in Califorinia, n***as crack heads for the turf
And life ain't nothin but TEC-9's and dirt
Dippin through the the jungles, my escalade hit a dip
Fuck! Here come the gorillas in the mist
And they dressed like Ice Cube was in 96
Stone cold jheri curls and not one drip
I sleep with the worms 'fore I swim with the fish
And I ride with my n***as 'fore I roll witta bitch
If it don't make dollars, it don't make sense
And I almost got shot cause I hit a fence

[Chorus: Ice Cube & The Game]
Motherfuckers ain't gon' learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
[Verse 3: The Game]
Call the U.S. government and tell em it's a motherfuckin code red
N***as tried to straight up jack me, now they both dead
Third little n***a got away on his moped
Caught him 'round the corner, put the beam on his forehead
Jumped in the Impala then smashed through the light
Without a one time in sight
So I bust a right on Century, headed to the L.A.X
Where there ain't nothin but fly bitches and jets
In and out of lanes and I almost wrecked
Off brand n***a in the 600 throwin up his set
He must don't know I got the 40 on deck
And the TEC tryna be Shabba Ranks, time to flex
It's the third this shit happened to me all day
Guess it's time to add another dead body to the throw away
So I turned down my Spice 1 tape
And hit the switch, emptied the whole clip in his fuckin face

[Chorus: Ice Cube & The Game]
Motherfuckers ain't gon' learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
Motherfuckers ain't gone learn, 'til the chronic blunt don't burn
And you can't see nothin' but the ghetto bird
Light shinin through the fuckin' palm trees
California ain't a state, it's a army
[Outro: Ice Cube]
California ain't a state, it's a army