This is a song about "Coast"

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

Like east is to side, and west is to coast

Im out ready to jet i'll meet you up coast

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

But i did have miss medusa, she loud and she leave me stoned

Or, biggie smalls, the master of flow and the big poppa of east coast//

A nigga thorough, she knew it before i bought her car

Call me west coast wells fargo, because i can go far

West's marijuana, but i smoke like the east coast,

Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold

And be the last nigga left, then i'll be ghost

It used to be all about "west coast vs east coast"//

So if it comes down, may the best man win

That west coast schedule, don't hate on us bluntin'

And nigga you ain't from the east coast, even if you are

Weekend trippin to wherever, only heaven is far