[Intro: Solomon Childs]
East coast, west coast, east coast (yeah, man)
East coast, west coast
East coast, west coast, east coast (uh)
East coast, west coast
West coast (all the ladies)
East coast, west coast (get 'em)
West coast, east coast
East coast (uh-huh), west coast, east coast (yeah)
East coast, west coast
[Solomon Childs]
From Junior's to Roscoe's
From Venice Beach to crates of Corona's from Kosko's
Maryland and VA late nights, these freak b**hes got la**o's
Type of b**hes take it more in they a**holes
From Detroit to Texas, frontin' in St. Louis
Playin' Nelly in your Lexus
But it's all good, cuz the money got your groove vibrating
On the track, Mardi Gras, like we out in New Orleans
ATL, the b**hes blowin' out, when they be balling
San Diego to Sacramento, we jingling baby
Two shots of Henny got us mingling, baby
We k** a n***a, for platinum bound
Front, so ya baby momma can watch ya f*ggot a** swallow the pound
And ain't it something, how these motherf**ers never bite nothing
But stay hollering, how they bloodhounds, another n***a done bit
You want the Theodore Unit to act up, whoodie
Get yourself all shot up, whoodie
[Chorus 2X: Solomon Childs]
Another n***a done bit, another n***a done bit
Running his mouth...
Another n***a done bit, walking the wrong route
I told you about that fronting on n***as