California Games Lyrics – Armand Hammer, The Alchemist

Read the full California Games lyrics by Armand Hammer and The Alchemist along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song.

[Verse 1: Earl Sweatshirt]
Yeah
What makes mice out of many a man
I don’t think strikes as bottomless
Promises have been the quarter that
Broke the pattern and I noticed I’m always on edge
The homies was saying don’t even spazz
The ceiling is glass, we already cracked it
Give it a stamp, we seal up the package
We shipping it back, it wasn’t too shabby
But was it your best?
No stress, I’m not even asking
OT like Barnum and Bailey’s
Nothing changed much, hounding bag
Home team in the Cressida tan, treat that boy like the jester he is
English on it, perfected the spin
I watch most of the message get missed
Pressure on me, can’t prep or pretend
Pardon my absence, peer into the past
My ass got whooped like one of the Jackson’s Warrior path
The Man in the Mirror with action
I don’t need to ask
I ain’t in the trap, the rats in the precinct singing like Toni Braxton
I don’t need to stab but I keep one handy
Only the family

[Verse 2: E L U C I D]
Clandestine handgun, view to a kill
Sub-star confession
Where ocean kiss canyon
Every knee had kneeled through where I’m standing
Gutted, built to spill, wild without abandon
I don’t pocket watch or think my hands in
Swiss Movement engraved with Sanskrit
Genie in the bottle, dirty dancing rancid
Took off my pants one leg at a time too
Done scrambling, make it move

Talk slanted
Maybe two or three more for weak n!ggas you ran with
Stranded
I smoke on your confusion, cold lamping

[Verse 2: billy woods]
48 hours on the rental, six hours on the plane
California games in the bag and ’68 in the shade
I could go mad and take something for the pain
I only came back to tell you about those flames, boy
(Only came back to tell you about them-)
Wire frames and tape across broken nose
Wiretap in broken home
Fire happens, fire grows, fire burns, fire knows
Throats slit, this business pimps and hoes
The settlers kill ’em slow if not softly
The eggs and (??) a cup of coffee
Coughing ‘get these motherfu*kers up off me Lord’

[Verse 4: E L U C I D]
It was always fourth down, splitting center
Sickness and the symptom
Sixth sense, stars pointed at people not conditions
Fingers twist up
If you could just make it through the winter twice bitten
Hers was sweet, mine’s more bitter
Worth the wait, darkness always was
In this life I had to be creative

[Verse 5: billy woods]
With sour malice
My daughter’s power ballads ring ‘cross barren fields
Strung with the devil’s rope
Gave the dead hope
The living weep, peeping in the telescope
Light leak in the photo
God’s feet on they throat