Coast to Coast Gangstas (feat. Sauce Money, Joe Budden, WC, Bun B, Killer Mike & Hak Ditty)
Joe Budden & DJ Kay Slay
Hip-Hop/Rap
354
Vídeo musical
Coast To Coast Gangstas feat. Bun B, Hak Ditty, Joe Budden, Killer Mike, Sauce Money, WC
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Créditos
AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
DJ Kay Slay
Künstler:in
Joe Budden
Künstler:in
Sauce Money
Künstler:in
WC
Künstler:in
Bun B
Künstler:in
Killer Mike
Künstler:in
Hak Ditty
Künstler:in
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Joe Budden
Komponist:in
Todd Gaither
Komponist:in
W. Calhoun
Komponist:in
Bernard James Freeman
Komponist:in
Michael Render
Komponist:in
A. Miller
Komponist:in
Damon Blackmon
Komponist:in
John Smith
Komponist:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
DJ Kay Slay
Ausführende:r Produzent:in
Dame Grease
Produzent:in
Dr. Dre
Produzent:in
Joey I.E.
Ausführende:r Co-Produzent:in
G. Marchese
Mischtechniker:in
Letras
He-he-he, Brooklyn
This is the set-off
Kay Sleezy (Kay Sleezy)
Take it to the streets ****
Word up
Sauce Money
Uh, uh (whoa)
Proper set-off
Don't get it fucked up, 'cause Sauce calm wit his grandma
'Cause I'm like baking soda bitch, I'm armed with a hammer
And when I'm strapped fool, fuck your brother
'Cause like Jimmy Ivene in Virginia you in the scope like a muthafucka
Fine, **** don't wanna let him shine
**** hate that fact Sauce don't give a fuckin' nine (uh, uh)
Soon as he ran his mouth, one tre pound seven to nine (who's that?)
Guess who's the odd man out
I guess we got something in common
I'm just a little more calm when (guess who's that?)
I'm about to split your arm in
Put a hole so big in your noggin
That if you God body, you can fit the whole sun, moon and star in (woo)
You starvin' for more lyrics I know
Steady robbin' all them lyrics I flow
I'm Sadam-ing all you **** fo sho
You betta know I'm a true ****, please do ****
Betta inquire from a few **** (wow)
'Cause bitch, I done shit on quite a few and quieted a few ****
Get a grip, dead four-fifth in the hip
Slip, never picture me fallin' **** don't trip
Stoned is the way of my walk
In a mini-mack eleven, the tone when I talk
When I spray **** pray, lay on the sidewalk
Color blood red, body outlined in chalk
My rhymes, two zigs all nines
Hard hit when they spit, split wigs double time
This eightball's a strict nine
Tear apart body parts when I spark nine
At they head hard lodged in they damn spine
Leaves emcee's like Christopher Reeves, crippled and cryin'
Shittin' in a bag and a breath away from dyin'
**** I'm-, the epitomy of raw rhymes (what?)
The epitomy of rap rock
I make a block party bop to the sounds of a hot Glock
From New York down to Georgia it don't stop
Killer Kill from Addamsville with a hot Glock, blaaat (blaaat)
They say murder is the case they wanna throw me
I guess these muthafuckas don't know me (oh, oh)
OG rock called a yay slanger, PA's finest
Underground muthafuckin' king call me "Your Highness"
I tear your sinus with this gun powder
Wipe your tears with the steal (steal), no fear this is real ****
Here is the deal: you clear in this field (field)
And ain't stoppin' until every hater here is revealed ('vealed)
'Cause we don't need no fuckin' clearance to peel
Or shortstoppers runnin' and the fear is revealed ('vealed)
So, get off this block homie handle your corner
Keep all your heroin, rocks and you mariju-wana
I'm like a-, character on the Sopranos or the Wire
You'se a-, big pussy lil' man, it's over, retire
'Cause the-, clock's tickin', your days is done
But we know all them lil' different fuckin' ways you slum
But it's trill downtown (town), your momma's all free (free)
Your house is sugar-layin' with your wife and your seed (seed)
Yes indeed, Big Bun is on a home invasion
You gon' bleed on my gun from your dome abrasions
'Cause my chrome is blazin' (eh), I'm naughty crunk (ah)
Got the bop gun like Sir Nose D'Voiddoffunk
Bitch, I pull a sawed-off from under the waist
Open your eyes muthafucka, you got thunder to face
Fuck rest, we gon' lay these muthafuckas to waste
You bit the pully **** tell me
How the fuck did it taste from my gun
Big guns, big power
M Woods, sixth hour
Berettas, Tauruses, Rugers
Smith and Wesson's, Glocks and lugers
AK's, AR 15's
Mack elevens and M-16's
High caliber, so why try it?
You live by it, so you die by it
A muthafuckin' gun
Who's the man with the strap in his hand
Homie's stolen semi-autos and contrabands
All day every day, crossin' my hood in day
In a six-trey with my **** Kay Slay (Kay Slay)
Dub the law scan, the infrared scanner
Hangin' out the window, hittin' em up with the bandana
And I can't stand a snitch so I-, clean the lid
Just in case them bitch **** wanna sing with this
I stay on the trigger (what?), 'cause lames hate me **** (what?)
They can't pay me ****, where my lay dates ****
Where AK one-on-one so 30 shot
Nine millimeter Melindas aimed ready to send ya (fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck)
So put your can on your vest like a Bible and pray slowly
'Cause this'll leave your teflon holey
With the 40 Glock ready to ring, bring the trauma to the scene (what?)
It's the Ghetto Heisman and the Drama King
It's about that time nine-milli clappin'
Dude, what's really crackin'?
I been gettin' it since 'Paid In Full' was really happenin'
I gotta do it like that to keep my street name
And pride made me kill Wayne Growe when the heat came
I don't smut but stimulation is good
I keep the hammer with me, Joey's renovatin' the hood
Difference between us, I'm gettin' loot on tours
Good shoes on the Beem, you got a boot on yours
Dudes with no names wanna put an end to me
But doggs, I'm readin' between the lines, the whole game's in parenthesis
Talk about models and how you with somethin'
When you really shootin' air balls, you ain't hittin' nothin'
Nathan, through the strip, OG's blazin'
Street **** slowly hatin' on Joey so amazin'
And hood **** knowin' what up
Either holdin' you down or holdin' you up, throwin' it up, oh
Ay, yo, fuck the dumb shit, when the guns spit
One clip'll have your whole strip laid down
32 shots to your block, I had that shit caged down
And before you blink, I let off eight rounds
This the royal I ain't playin'
I'm takin' this over, so y'all either layin' or dying
And I won't hesitate to blaze the iron
You cocksuckers is chillin' with a ragin' lion
I see them dudes every day, when I'm racin' by 'em
Or on the curb poppin' bottles while they hatin' and eyein'
Uh, whether the slider or the highrider
I keep my block rocker, Glock under the blue dosser
Far as Philly, it's no question to who's liver
I'm hotter, Hak Ditty, block locker
Fully prepared
I hope y'all fully aware that y'all **** got a problem this year
Written by: A. Miller, Bernard James Freeman, Damon Blackmon, Joe Budden, John Smith, Michael Render, Todd Gaither, W. Calhoun
