Turlock town where the sun don’t lie,
Frenchies in the back and the blunt stay high,
Riders roll deep, yeah we hustle or die,
209 heat — we was born to survive.
Got that Cali green, yeah we smoke that fire,
Frenchies bark twice if the block look wired,
Ave Maria when the block go silent,
Pray for my soul in a world so violent.
(Echo: Ave… Maria…)
⸻
[VERSE 1 – NIVEL]
Slide through the Valley where the Wranglers creep,
Chrome on the wheels and my squad don’t sleep.
Got a stogie full of OG, mind on the cash,
Frenchies in the front seat, ridin’ with class.
Her beauty’s like a holy site — divine and rare,
Moves like light when she walk through air.
