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letra de snow... in cali - joey trap

[intro]
(young rich squad)
me and my chains in the mic

[chorus]
when i was 18, got my first check from rap, gave it right to my momma
don’t talk to police, we don’t want no drama
separate police from we, i love commas

[verse 1]
b-tch, i’m from where they pick death for designer
shot him right out of his yves saint laurent, but
he was just chilling at home, young recliner
watch me laugh to the bank, it’s hilarious
put the world on my back, watch me carry this
f-ck my new asian b-tch, she aquarius
put the racks in the ground, b-tch i buried it
rest in piece benjamin, b-tch, i’m very rich
three n-ggas, six guns, this scary sh-t
matter fact, audi red like the cherries is

[chorus]
when i was 18, got my first check from rap, gave it right to my momma
don’t talk to police, we don’t want no drama
separate police from we, i love commas
[verse 2]
n-ggas be hating, i don’t give a f-ck though
i seen ya’ ho’, but i heard she a sl-t though, woah
when i walk out the bank, i be counting my cash
you see a young n-gga, just know i be splashing
my diamonds water, same color my aston, yo’ yo’
i’m smoking purp with them pumps in my mansion
i’m off a perc, so i hope i don’t crash it, okay
not talking cash? n-gga, no way
i don’t wan’ talk if it’s not ’bout the cash
you swear you want problems, go worry ’bout a bag
this dior from paris, might fly out to france
you play too much, p-ssy, go play with them bands
the world almost over, so start armada
it’s raining in cali, of course i wore prada
feds try to catch me, i ain’t saying nada, zip
if sh-t get crazy, i shout out my shotta
yo’, yo’
i just skrrt off the lot in a new bentley truck with the tints
f-ck you thought, i threw rims on ’em
i be worried ’bout my bag, not a b-tch
if you think i’ma slip, i got chops with the things on ’em
my clip banana, go ape
all my shooters some k!llers with bape
we just set up his block, put the tape on it
she f-ck with the team just to taste on us
[chorus]
when i was 18, got my first check from rap, gave it right to my momma
don’t talk to police, we don’t want no drama
separate police from we, i love commas

[verse 3]
b-tch, i’m from where they pick death for designer
shot him right out of his yves saint laurent, bruh
when i was 18, told my momma we’ll never be hungry again
we ain’t been hungry since then
it’s snowing in cali now
i brought the snow out to cali now

- joey trap

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