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Lyrics
(Intro – talking)
West side logic, east coast pain — FTB still the name.
(Verse 1)
Ridin’ through the city, bassline thick,
Middle finger up like, “fuck that bitch.”
Chrome in the sun, paint job drip,
Talk that real, never talk that script.
Hood tales sound like gospel quotes,
Homies in the cut still pushin’ hope.
We built this lane with no permission,
Hate if you want — we the definition.
(Chorus)
FTB Nation — never bow down,
Crown too loud, they can’t drown sound.
Whole coast ridin’, truth on deck,
Respect ain’t given — it’s a side effect.
(Verse 2)
They want peace? We bring truth,
Same mic N.W.A used in booths.
Old school heart with new school teeth,
FTB bite down — never beneath.
West side swing with a rebel aim,
Every verse gasoline to the flame.
Hustle divine, grind prophetic,
FTB legacy — unapologetic.
(Final Chorus)
FTB Nation — never bow down,
Crown too loud, they can’t drown sound.
Whole coast ridin’, truth on deck,
Respect ain’t given — it’s a side effect.
Details
GeneratedOct 31, 2025
Duration1:13
LanguageEnglish
Style
90s West Coast gangsta rap – funk bass, rebel anthem, male
Credits
Prompt by
fkthatbtch
fkthatbtchModelAria v5
