e.c. locsta - n.o.t.s. (rap) lyrics
[intro: lil keke loco]
awww yeah, east coast is in the m*th*fuccin’ house, big duce from 6*duece on deck, yeah, y’know what i’m sayin’!
[chorus/hook]
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
[verse 1 big duce]
it’s like torture, comin’ out the mind wit’ the gang tip, big duce is the m*th*f*cka, that’s makin’ the slobs slip
swan and jerry, who’ll soon be bumped off, take ’em to the hood, pop the trunk, and hes dumped off
the coast & og duce, is straight on a k!ll path, the coast is [?] compton ass
the [?] duce won, got the right blow, the figgest gangsta [?] street to 1*9*0
tied around my head, holdin’ braids, is a blue rag the other color dead to me, is a f*g*tag
now livin’ in the hood, the homies call you a joke*sta, but i dont give a f*ck, this still east coasta rollin’ in my caddy, on a side creep, the milk*shake bustas, [?] buck, 77 street, steady dyin’, and fallin’ and crawlin’, screamin’ for help
slang these dogs like ice: they just melt
try to test my stamina, a slob made gumbo, twice my size but still got beat though
my minds always thinkin’ its time for a slob bath, huh, and to the homie like me: its big cash
h*ll to the harlems & the 60’s crip, yo
the 40’s rollin’ o’s, rollin’ 100s, the 9*0’s
down as f*ck, and they can’t be called busta’s
i tell ya everybody, its hard to be a east coast locsta
[chrous/hook]
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
[verse 2: lil’ squee bas]
hittin’ corners fast, now its the time to drum when time on my ass, got my [?] in my trunk i don’t give a f*ck ’bout you gettin’ hard, i’m ’bout to send these snoop n*ggas, straight to tomarrow so what? you n*ggas tryna blast me? ain’t nothin’ poppin’ when a n*gga from the ‘6 street, they try to put in some work, they tried to fade me, but little did they know i hadda .9 in my seat, strapped when i roll through yo hood, you give it up, so, watch out for the coast ’cause the n*ggas do it the most its the [?] keepin’ yo ass in check, blast yo ass, and step yo babies f*ckin’ neck, see it’s a trip, n*ggas ain’t wit the bullsh*t, oth street n*ggas ain’t the n*ggas to fool wit’
’cause my mind is sick, wit’ the triple 6, 6th street n*ggas, love breakin’ b*tches, constantly, constantly, constantly runnin’ metro, f*ck all b*tches, and you stupid ass hoes
lil’ squee ain’t no m*th*fuccin’ joka’, just a 76 east coast locsta
[chorus/hook]
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
(this is how we do it when we checkin a grip)
(aww yeah) im’ma east coast locsta
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