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Southwest O.G.

Romero
Popularity ยท Low
๐Ÿ‡ฌ๐Ÿ‡ง English ยท Original

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Lyrics

Yeah, 3rd World Productions Hotbox Doc Quelle I'm West Coast, and I always been I've been living in the city of sin So how you gon' say that I'm from the East Coast? Just because I rap better and you all don't Just because I spit it better, spit it like a pro Spit it in your face, you don't wanna test me bro Come into your place, from your speaker stereo So you're not gonna know, I'm thinking that you don't So I guess I gotta teach you, guess I gotta learn you Playing with this fire, well I might burn you Well I might hurt you, not imaginating Everybody's rapping murder shit, exaggerated I feel in this rap game that I'm underrated I'm in it for the work, and I'm in it for the paycheck Don't wanna get hurt, then don't come and disrespect it Don't be hating Doc, 'cause you know he's on some next shit Is he West Coast? Is he East Coast? Is he down South? Is he Midwest? Where's that fool from? Who's he cool with? What's he talking about up in his music? Don't get it twisted, I'm not East Coast I'm that Southwest original When I got hits, when I drops it Roll that motherfucking weed and hotbox it I love smoking weed, love to get blown I get so fucked up I can't find my way home And I can't be alone when I'm in the zone When I'm getting stoned, smoking to the dome I know that I'm grown, but I ain't changed Still the same brain doing the same things Except I need more money than I did when I was a kid Now I need that shit to live So it's not all fun and jokes anymore You gotta work hard to survive in this war I mean this world, it's more like a battle Uphill struggle, load up on your ammo See what you can handle, I'm just trying to make it Working all the angles, staying out the snake pit Staying out the state pen, that'll be the worst Imagine being locked up while your girl is giving birth Is he West Coast? Is he East Coast? Is he down South? Is he Midwest? Where's that fool from? Who's he cool with? What's he talking about up in his music? Don't get it twisted, I'm not East Coast I'm that Southwest original When I got hits, when I drops it Roll that motherfucking weed and hotbox it Is he West Coast? Is he East Coast? Is he down South? Is he Midwest? Where's that fool from? Who's he cool with? What's he talking about up in his music? Don't get it twisted, I'm not East Coast I'm that Southwest original When I got hits, when I drops it Roll that motherfucking weed and hotbox it Bitch you can't see me, you not on the same page If my gun shoots BB's, it's a fucking 12 gauge I ain't trying to be on TV, I'm just trying to get paid Fucking with these bitches, I ain't trying to get laid 'Cause these bitches just be tripping and they ramble on for days They just go and put your name up in every single phrase So I gotta stay away, gotta stay focused This verse was in my head dog, I never even wrote it Though I just exploded without any warning Like the bees be swarming, I'm out in the open Got these rappers hoping that I give it up But I'm like 007 dog, the world is not enough I run to 7-11 without a single fucking buck Run out with a case of beer and jump inside my homie's truck I cross my fingers for luck 'cause I'm living that ruckus Bitch, I never had to buck this Is he West Coast? Is he East Coast? Is he down South? Is he Midwest? Where's that fool from? Who's he cool with? What's he talking about up in his music? Don't get it twisted, I'm not East Coast I'm that Southwest original When I got hits, when I drops it Roll that motherfucking weed and hotbox it Is he, that fool West Coast? (West Coast) Is he East Coast? (East Coast) Is he down South? Dirty dirty, you know what I'm saying? Is he drunk? Is he loaded?