[Intro: A$AP Ferg & Busta Rhymes]
Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (Remix)
Fuck that shit, we get turnt ’til the sun is up
All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up
This that East Coast, motherfucker
Call me “Mr. East Coast,” motherfucker
Let me give them a friendly reminder real quick, yo
[Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
Y’all already know the God gotta talk
Every single time I come, you niggas know I gotta do it
Yes, I gotta do it, and I gotta kill ’em, and I gotta hit ’em
Yes, you know a nigga gotta beat ’em stupid
Only got forty-one seconds just to give a nigga shit
Every second, bitch, I gotta use it
Sorry, but a nigga blew it, and I came to grab the microphone
And I make a motherfucker lose it
And I make niggas jump, and I back niggas up
She in the back of the truck
Lil’ mami wanna fuck and she really wanna suck
When I finish with her, then we go in the back of the club
And we do this shit again, my nigga, pronto
Bip-de-badda-de-booda-de-beat it like a bongo
Banging on the pussy like a nigga named Alonzo
Head game crazy, that make her the head honcho
Mad ’cause I took his bitch, and now, he think he macho?
Somebody better call the cops, yo
‘Fore we run up inside of that nigga little condo
Put him in a box, put the nigga in a cargo (Cargo? Cargo!)
Shut a nigga down (Fake bitch)
Throw a bottle at you, shut a nigga mouth (Break shit)
Come and follow, nigga, stand up on the couch (Shake shit)
Let her swallow, niggas know we’re in the house (Trey-fifth)
East Coast, nigga!
[Verse 2: A$AP Ferg]
1-0-0-3-1 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, uh, 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 (Yah)
“Cocaine Castle”, “Hood Pope” Ferg (Yah)
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, uh, 1-4-3rd
On Hungry Ham, up on the corner
Fiends gangster-leaning, never sober
From being in the streets to run a culture
I never been in the weave, I had hoes, bruh (Yeah)
Who’s that jiggy motherfucker with the clothes, bruh? (Yeah)
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 shout-out to every coast, bruh
South to North and even West Coast, bruh (Come on)
[Verse 3: A$AP Rocky]
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 (Ayy), his diamonds like TIP (Ayy)
His skin too clear (Ayy), his bitch gon’ stare (Ayy)
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
[Verse 4: Dave East & French Montana]
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 deepthroat (Phenomenal)
I’m more Ali than Muhammad
My noodles was Ramen, go Google my diamonds (Go Google)
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 (Who?)
Ignorant bastard (Hanh)
But I’m still conscious enough to give hope to the masses (Hanh)
Watch the coke do gymnastics (East side)
Dominique Dawes, foreign my car when I’m mashin’ (Hanh)
[Verse 5: French Montana]
Chain, busting it down
Wrist, busting it down (Down)
Your bitch busting it down (Down)
Rap game, I’m fucking it now (Pow)
I could be a jeweler (Jeweler)
Neck, that’s Slick the Ruler (Ruler)
You niggas is comedy (Bling)
Talking fast like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony (Harmony)
KRS-One, Big L flows (Flows)
Son of a gun with the Buffalo (‘Lo)
Head on my wrist is a P1 (One)
Made more money than E1 (One)
One time Chinx, two time Yams (Yams)
Get the money, slide like a violin (Violin)
You know my nigga Max almost home? (Ha)
You know who run the East Coast zone, nigga? (Ha)
(Maybach Music)
[Verse 6: Rick Ross]
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
[Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
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 (All right)
This that East Coast, motherfucker (Ooh)
But I know this West Coast— (Snoop Dogg!)
[Verse 7: Snoop Dogg]
Ten-twenty was my date of birth, the day I came to Earth
Bottle-sipping, love to burp, young nigga that’s doing dirt
“Long Beach” across my shirt, all y’all niggas gon’ get murked
What the fuck is you talkin’ bout? Me and Ferg, we gon’ put in work
Bang on you, 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
Lil’ 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 Hell-zone, zone, zone
[Chorus: A$AP Ferg & Snoop Dogg]
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 (Oww, all right)
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 (Long Beach)
West Coast
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