Coast 2 Coast - Trae Tha Truth

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