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lirik lagu west coast, gulf coast, east coast – spm

[chorus:]
now these west coast players & we love to ball…
& these gulf coast hustlers love to do it all…
& them east coast killers ought to represent
& when we ride together we gon’ kill some sh-t…

[verse 1:]
i got my mind made up, i’m strapped & i’m ridin’ high
west side ’til i die, money multiplied
down & dirty hooked up with my phones
gulf coast in a hurry cadillacs & gold jewlery
& we blow big candy cane
player hatin’ dirty mex don’t understand the game
baby beach, baby beth, latino’s if ever do you gang bang
i can’t do it cause i’m all about my money man
hoggin’ and doggin’ cheddar cheese full of scratch
& got them super fly fish tags full of tash
that’s how we do it, hustle fluit runnin’ through my veins
i got soldiers that’ll dump for a little change…

[south park mexican:]
ring around the police, pockets full of hoezies
it’s the wizard of 36 oz’s
swingin’ ‘n’ swervin’ jealous man’s burden
hoe’s see my ride & wanna say they a virgin
20 inch turnin’ keep they heart hurtin’
h-town city slicker, buy my german
sippin’ on bourban, back woods a burnin’
back in the days i couldn’t get one wordin’
now i park valet wit boys outta cali
players on pro’s like the m-th-f-ckin’ valley
if you were me, you’d be surrounded by security
dope house, known for our purity.

[verse 2:]
yeah, these west coast riders with the down south g’s
17 shots pulled back an squeeze
take keys break ’em down the o’s & p’s
& i’ll ball like a m-th-f-ckin’ c-fee toe
i’m laced in this b-tch like pcp, with spm & low-g
down with the click, i’m baby beesh
& i’m a hillwood hustla ’til i die m-th-f-cker
i’m a grind in l.a. ’til my very last day
it’s a struggle but i gotta bubble baby, please believe it
i guess that’s the reason i roll with my rival
& like i said big frost is a hard act to follow…

[3rd verse: rasheed]
it’s the philly alumni
on the drum i, come i
wit the type of funk that make a sucker cry
but he need no paper to fly
i ain’t gon’ lie
my organization down wit world wide hustlaz
gettin’ sick, wit salty waters’ lifestyl livin’ life-a
the homey force that’s gon’ hop up on the plane
seize, that baby beesh without the west coast mary jane
on the east coast, they’re goin’ whacko for that stack of paper
on the south side, they run wit slangers & they stack that paper
we screamin’ yay yay
wit the baskets full of blaze
south park mexican & rasheed makin’ power moves ev-ery day
cashin’ in the money
like universal comin’ wit def jam
& do a hater we gon’ have to…

[chorus:]
now these west coast players & we love to ball…
& these gulf coast hustlers love to do it all…
& them east coast killers ought to represent
& when we ride together we’re gonna kill some sh-t… [x2]

[low g:]
it’s yo boy low g from the center of the planet
i feel it get crunk & take control like janet
when you hear the hit, what show you gonna jam in
can’t hang with the bandit, haters can’t stand it
recommended a mendez, ta win dis
the menace most worse that dennis.
mm. me entiendes? raches apendes
remember me low-g from the block of rock
second war with the 9 millemeter glock
keep it endless, stayin’ friendless
cali flex the next
kid frost, baby beesh, rasheed & the south park mex…

- spm

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