Chorus:

Now these West Coast players and we love to ball...

And these Gulf Coast Hustlers love to do it all...

And them East Coast killas ought to represent

And when we ride together we're gonna kill some shit...



[Verse 1]

I got my mind made up, I'm strapped and I'm riddin high

West Side till I die, money multiplied

Down and dirty hooked up with my phones

Gulf Coast in a hurry cadillacs and gold jewlery

And we blow big candy cane

Playa hattin dirty Mex don't understand tha 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

And 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...



[Carlos Coy]

Ring around the police, pockets full of hoezies

It's the wizard tha 36 ozies

Swingin n swervin jealous man's burden

Hoe's see my ride and 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

Playas on pro's like the mother fuckin valley

If you were me, u'd be surrounded by security

Dope House, known for our purity



(Chorus)



[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 and p's

And I'll ball like a mother fuckin' C-fee toe

I'm laced in this bitch like PCP, with SPM, and LOW-G

Down with the click, I'm Baby Beesh

and I'm a Hillwood Hustla 'til I die motherfucker

I'ma 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

And 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 sucka 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 homie 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 going whacko for that stack of paper

on the South Side, they run wit slangaz and they stack that paper

we screamin' YAAY YAAY

wit the baskets full of blaze

South Park Mexican and Rasheed makin' power moves ev-ery day

cashin' in the money,

like Universal comin' wit Def Jam

and do a hater we gon' have to...



(Chorus x2)



[Low G]

It's yo boy Low G from the center of the planet

I feel it get crunk and 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

Mmmmm, Me entiendes? Raches apendes

Remember me Low-G from the block of rock

Second war with the nine millemeter glock

Keep it endless, stayin friendless

Cali flex the next

Kid Frost, Baby Beesh, Rasheed and the South Park Mex...



(Chorus x2