This is a song about "Coast"

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

My insanity, profanity, my west coast mentality

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

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

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

Like east is to side, and west is to coast

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

Appalachia and the row homes in the northeast coast,

The underdog of the underground has come far

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

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

In my search for fame will i change? i'm askin

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

I ain't tricking but they see you as a pot of gold