Lyrics Coast 2 Coast - Trae Tha Truth

Coast 2 Coast

Coast to coast block to block, city to city and rock for rock
Coast to coast block to block, city to city and rock for rock
(hood to hood gang to gang, gangstas out here doing they thang
On they block trying to get they change, keeping them haters out they range)
Hit niggaz the realest, from west Tex to NY
Spit it, from Best I to C-H-I
For the motherfucking gangstas, and all them niggaz with the throwbacks
Keeping these niggaz up on they toes, till the do’stack
Lace tracks and I rope the block, and switch whips like a parking lot and then
I park the drop
Pick up cash and mark the spot, and move do’like a armored truck
I got niggaz that’ll stash the dope, ese partnas that’ll slash your throat
Get stashed in the back of a boat with a knife and slug in the back of your
coat, if you brag or you boast
Moving from coast to coast block to block, city to city and rock for rock
We international drug smugglers, and give a fuck if you like it or not
Pyrex in a pot got the hood on lock, got the streets on blaze no sleep for days
The world in a daze and the fiends amazed, first one in line when the fiends
get paid
Nigga how you think the crib look so damn laid, how you think I’m pushing a quarter to eight
I’m a jazzy bitch and I’m in love with the do', and every nigga I know in love
with the dro
Some go for blow some pop X, bring me the cash don’t take no checks
Pack my tech strap my vest, give it to you raw if a nigga want plex
Bet a bitch won’t flex and cross me wrong, cause your girl got heat not just
for the song
I’m a bitch to the bone international, ship weight all the way to the capital
They don’t really wanna know, how the fuck I feel
Cause Trae, will put em back up in a zone
For the hood that I roam, I’ll run up on a nigga like what it was
And dump, till I hit him with the chrome
They don’t wanna get it on, cause I promise I’m raw with mine
Pocket full of stones, like a king that’s underground
A.B.N.
gang, so you haters move around
King of the streets, I’ll put you up under mine
Get out of line, and I can show you who the Truth is Everybody, wanna know about Trae
Get a clip for the K, in the back
For the work on the block, I can show a nigga crime pay
Better get up out the way, me and Diamond coming up right behind em Pulling up in a slab, with fifth wheels reclining
Best not to try em, homie I can remind em Fuck around with me, and I promise they’d never find em They wanna doubt, but I prove a nigga wrong
Whoop niggaz ass, like Shot whip zones
Rip niggaz up, like I rip songs
In a black whip, with the top of it gone
You see, I’m Screwed Up Click for life
Fat Pat, and the H.A.W.K.
Keke Po-Yo and the rest of the squad, some ride red some ride blue-grey
Who is the Truth that gotta be Trae, either way it go niggaz know I don’t play
Southwest be the only place I’ma stay, burner in reach wherever that I’ma lay
Coast to coast ghetto to ghetto, better know I’m a Asshole type fellow
Hit em from the jump till my hands say let go, Texas nigga and that I’ma let
show
Down with Trae to hit the tre with the yay, and they know we got it raw got em sitting sideways
Seats laid back with the boys in a daze, sip a lil’drank with a lil’bit of haze
Never leave the house without some’ing to blaze, got the hood sitting still
like cars at fo’ways
My boy Big Dame can get it in fo’ways, I’m a D3 repper I do it to get paid
More work than old slaves so I hit the block with some’ing hot, anybody try to jack get popped with some’ing hot
I do it for the hood so you know it don’t stop, from the H to the flats in the
Lex or the drop
We hit a lot of blocks so the wrist stay icey, couldn’t care less that the bops
don’t like me Studio tonight so you know we getting icey, and this is where we going with the
work you can find me