West Coast, Gulf Coast, East Coast South Park Mexican (Ft. Baby Bash, Low-G, OG Kid Frost & Rasheed)

Chorus:
[Frost] Ask these west coast players, and we love to ball
[SPM] And these gulf coast hustlers love to do it all
[Rasheed] And them east coast killers ought to represent
And when we ride together, we gon' kill some shit

(Verse 1)
[Baby Bash]
I got my mind made up
I'm strapped and I'm ridin' high
West side til I die, money multiply
Down and dirty
Hooked up with my folks
Gulf coast in a hurry, Cadillacs and gold jewelery
And we blow big candy cane
Playa-hatin' dirty Mex don't understand the game
Baby Beesh, Baby Bash, Latino Velvet, do you gang bang
I can't do it, cause I'm all about my money, mayne
Hoggin' and doggin'
Cheddar cheese, scrilla, scratch
And got them super fly pimp tags to attach
That's how we do it, hustle fluid runnin' through my veins
I got soldiers that'll dump for a little change

[South Park Mexican]
Ring around the police, pocket full of ho-zies
It's The Wizard, of thirty-six O-Z's
Swingin' and swervin', jealous man's burden
Hoes see my ride and wanna say they a virgin
20 inch turnin', keep they heart hurtin'
H-town City Slicker, but my ride German
Sippin' on bourbon, back woods a-burnin'
Back in the days, I couldn't get one word in
Now I park valet, with boys outta Cali
Players on toes like the motherfuckin' valley
If you were me
You'd be surrounded by security
Dope House, known for our purity