Solomon Childs - Let's Ride lyrics

[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