Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song East Coast REMIX, artist - A$AP Ferg. Date of issue: 17.08.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
East Coast REMIX |
| Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up |
| Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up |
| All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up |
| This that East Coast motherfucker |
| Call me Mr. East Coast motherfucker |
| Let me give them a friendly reminder real quick, yo |
| Y'all already know the god gotta talk |
| Every single time I come you niggas know I gotta do it |
| Yes I gotta do it and I gotta kill 'em and I gotta hit 'em |
| Yes you know a nigga gotta beat 'em stupid |
| Only got 41 seconds just to give a nigga shit |
| Every second bitch I gotta use it |
| Somewhat a nigga blew it and I cannot |
| Grab the microphone and not make a motherfucker lose it |
| And I make niggas jump in the back |
| Niggas up, she in the back of the truck |
| Lil' mommy wanna fuck and she really wanna suck |
| When I finish with it then we go in the back of the club |
| And we do this shit again my nigga, pronto |
| Bip-de-badda-de-booda-de-beat it like a bongo |
| Banging on the pussy like a nigga named Alonzo |
| Head game crazy, that make her the head honcho |
| Mad cause I took his bitch and now he thinks he macho? |
| Somebody better call the cops yo |
| 'Fore we run up inside of that nigga's lil' condo |
| Put him in a box so the nigga in a cargo (Cargo? CARGO!) |
| Shut a nigga down (fake bitch) |
| Throw a bottle at ya, shut a nigga mouth (break shit) |
| Come and follow me, stand up on the couch (shake shit) |
| Let us wallow, niggas know we're in the house (trey fifth) |
| East Coast nigga! |
| 10031 is where my zip is |
| Live in Har-ar-lem, up in the trenches |
| Run through a bodega like I ain't got riches |
| Run through a bodega like I ain't got (come on) |
| Don't do it for the haters, I do it for the bitches |
| My flow Al-Qaeda, I kill rap niggas |
| Y'all Now and Laters, sweet ass-niggas |
| Soon as you get famous, they wanna ass-kiss [*muah*] |
| Only thing that I'm missing is Hov verse (JAY-Z) |
| I get a feeling, they want the old Ferg |
| "Cocaine Castle", "Hood Pope" Ferg |
| Got a question to ask you: do you know Ferg? |
| Do you know that I come from where the toast burn? |
| New York, New York, 143rd |
| On Hungry Ham up on the corner |
| Fiends gangster lean, they never sober |
| From being in the streets to run a culture |
| I never been in the weave, I had hoes, bruh |
| Who's that jiggy motherfucker with the clothes, bruh? |
| I'm finna kill these motherfuckers with the flow, bruh |
| I'm the best in the game with the flow, bruh |
| In New York I Milly Rock to "Magnolia" |
| I love the East but shoutout to every coast, bruh |
| South to North and even West Coast, bruh |
| Blackin' like I'm fresh up out retirement, my flow still monumental |
| Mental, couldn't ride an instrumental but they ridin' dick |
| I set the standards for requirements, so call the firemen |
| Just me, myself and I, the world is mine, I put the "I" in his |
| His posse too clean (aye) his diamonds like tip (aye) |
| His skin too clear (aye) his bitch gon' stare (aye) |
| So mind your biz, how they find the time for minding mine |
| I find these college chicks for top with Kylie's lips, oh my, oh my (run it) |
| Run it, run it like you want it (run it) |
| Run it, run it like you stole it (run it) |
| Running, running like I'm going (woo!) |
| Running, pitching like I'm bowling (woo!) |
| In my city, gangs run the inner city |
| Load a semi for the chiddy bang |
| Flacko, Fergie, Frenchie with the bitties |
| Hit up Remy for the pretty gang |
| Lately I feel like a Beatle |
| I'm Paulie McCartney just rocking Moschino |
| Moscato or Pinot |
| I got some bitches to hop in the Regal, phenomenal deep throat |
| I'm more Ali than Muhammad |
| My noodles was Ramen, go Google my diamonds |
| I got some shooters in college |
| I feel like a coach, I'm recruiting and signing |
| Look, I still be moving in silence |
| I'm ballin' in blue like I'm hooping in Dallas (ballin!) |
| Bitch I don't play for no Mavericks |
| You need to think who gon' pay for your casket |
| Ignorant bastard |
| But I'm still conscious enough to give hope to the masses |
| Watch the coke do gymnastics |
| Dominique Dawes, foreign my car when I'm mashin' |
| Chain busting it down, wrist busting it down |
| Your bitch busting it down, Rap game I'm fucking it now |
| I could be a jeweler, neck that's Slick the Ruler |
| You niggas is comedy, talking fast like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony |
| KRS-One, Big L flows, son of a gun with the Buffalo |
| Head on my wrist is a P1, made more money than E1 (1!) |
| One time Chinx, two time Yams (Yams) |
| Get the money, slide like a violin (violin) |
| You know my nigga Max almost home? |
| (hanh) |
| You know who run the East Coast zone nigga? |
| In the kitchen culinary, I could whip a Bloody Mary |
| And I wish that blood would dead me, I'ma get your brother buried |
| Gangbanging with your halo, business on the payphone |
| Bitches pussies drying up, like Taz's Angels |
| Never was a client, 'cause that boy ain't buying it |
| And I got a bottom bitch, my top come on consignment |
| Step up from the minor league, double M the dynasty |
| No, I never sold dope, I just got me a finder's fee |
| Following my frequency, niggas rapping week to week |
| Suckers be so weak to me, text, but don't speak to me |
| You can never speak for me, see the B.I. |
| chemistry |
| Check into the crazy house, I'ma turn the labels out |
| Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up |
| Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (remix) |
| Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up |
| All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up |
| This that East Coast motherfucker |
| But I know this West Coast (Snoop Dogg!) |
| 10/20 was my date of birth, the day I came to Earth |
| Bottles sipping, love to burp, young nigga that's doing dirt |
| Long Beach across my shirt, all y'all niggas gon' get merked |
| What the fuck is you talkin bout? |
| Me and Ferg, we gon put in work |
| Bang on ya' gang culture, out of this world |
| It's all on a bitch, is she a Blood? |
| Is she a Crip? |
| Don't slip, think not, on the block where it's hot |
| Legalize with the nines, give a fuck about a cop |
| Real shit, this is it, from the bottom to the Bay |
| This is anybody K, California all day |
| Yes-sir, on the curb, Mossberg by the van |
| Little homies on the roof with the blam, blam, blam! |
| Long Beach, popping pill on 'em |
| I been working so hard, nigga, get your bale on |
| I been working so hard, nigga, work to sell somethin' |
| I been working so hard, welcome to the hellzone, zone, zone |
| See I'm from Long Beach |
| Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up |
| Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (remix) |
| See I'm from Long Beach |
| Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up |
| All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up |
| See I'm from Long Beach |
| This that East Coast motherfucker |
| California motherfucker, see I'm from Long Beach |
| Call me Mr. East Coast motherfucker |
| West Coast |