This is a song about "Coast"

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

Unless your 'skin's winning, then i do it just to fucking boast

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

The best to the least, west to the east, but he's the east coast,

Appalachia and the row homes in the northeast coast,

To packin' up and leavin' notes, and gettin' ghost

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

Seven years old in my heart, so i'm stayin' gold

You ain't got one or the other well brother good night

My flow is tight and cold as ice, coast to coast it's right,

Ubn and east coast don't scare us

Off rip that's genius

By bootin motherfuckers like a shootin star

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