conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called East Coast REMIX with the following description: This is not the first time A$AP Ferg has created a star studded remix like this. In the past years, he got a great amount of stars together on new versions of “Work” and “Shabba”, plus most recently his “New Level” remix. Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: A$AP Ferg & 
  Busta Rhymes
  ]
  Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (Remix)
  Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up
  All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up
  This that East Coast, motherfucker
  Call me "Mr. East Coast," motherfucker
  Let me give them a friendly reminder real quick, yo
  [Verse 1: Busta Rhymes]
  Y'all already know the God gotta talk
  Every single time I come, you niggas know I gotta do it
  Yes, I gotta do it, and I gotta kill 'em, and I gotta hit 'em
  Yes, you know a nigga gotta beat 'em stupid
  Only got forty-one seconds just to give a nigga shit
  Every second, bitch, I gotta use it
  Sorry, but a nigga blew it, and I came to grab the microphone
  And I make a motherfucker lose it
  And I make niggas jump, and I back niggas up
  She in the back of the truck
  Lil' mami wanna fuck and she really wanna suck
  When I finish with her, then we go in the back of the club
  And we do this shit again, my nigga, pronto
  Bip-de-badda-de-booda-de-beat it like a bongo
  Banging on the pussy like a nigga named Alonzo
  Head game crazy, that make her the head honcho
  Mad 'cause I took his bitch, and now, he think he macho?
  Somebody better call the cops, yo
  'Fore we run up inside of that nigga little condo
  Put him in a box, put the nigga in a cargo (Cargo? Cargo!)
  Shut a nigga down (Fake bitch)
  Throw a bottle at you, shut a nigga mouth (Break shit)
  Come and follow, nigga, stand up on the couch (Shake shit)
  Let her swallow, niggas know we're in the house (Trey-fifth)
  East Coast, nigga! [Verse 2: A$AP Ferg]
  1-0-0-3-1 is where my ZIP is
  Live in Har-ar-lem, up in the trenches
  Run through a bodega like I ain't got riches
  Run through a bodega like I ain't got— (Come on)
  Don't do it for the haters, I do it for the bitches
  My flow Al-Qaeda, I kill rap niggas
  Y'all Now-and-Laters, uh, sweet ass-niggas
  Soon as you get famous, they wanna ass-kiss (Muah)
  Only thing that I'm missing is Hov verse (JAY-Z)
  I get a feeling they want the old Ferg (Yah)
  "Cocaine Castle", "Hood Pope" Ferg (Yah)
  Got a question to ask you: Do you know Ferg?
  Do you know that I come from where the toast burn?
  New York, New York, uh, 1-4-3rd
  On Hungry Ham, up on the corner
  Fiends gangster-leaning, never sober
  From being in the streets to run a culture
  I never been in the weave, I had hoes, bruh (Yeah)
  Who's that jiggy motherfucker with the clothes, bruh? (Yeah)
  I'm finna kill these motherfuckers with the flow, bruh
  I'm the best in the game with the flow, bruh
  In New York, I Milly Rock to "Magnolia"
  I love the East, but shout-out to every coast, bruh
  South to North and even West Coast, bruh (Come on) [Verse 3: A$AP Rocky]
  Blackin' like I'm fresh up out retirement
  My flow still monumental, mental
  Couldn't ride an instrumental, but they ridin' dick
  I set the standards for requirements, so call the firemen
  Just me, myself and I, the world is mine, I put the "I" in his
  His posse too clean (Ayy), his diamonds like TIP (Ayy)
  His skin too clear (Ayy), his bitch gon' stare (Ayy)
  So mind your biz, how they find the time for minding mine
  I find these college chicks for top
  With Kylie's lips, oh my, oh my (Run it)
  Run it, run it like you want it (Run it)
  Run it, run it like you stole it (Run it)
  Running, running like I'm going (Woo)
  Running, pitching like I'm bowling (Woo)
  In my city, gangs run the inner city
  Load a semi for the chiddy bang
  Flacko, Fergie, Frenchie with the bitties
  Hit up Remy for the pretty gang
  [Verse 4: Dave East & 
  French Montana
  ]
  Lately, I feel like a Beatle
  I'm Paulie McCartney just rocking Moschino
  Moscato or Pinot
  I got some bitches to hop in the Regal
  Phenomenal deepthroat (Phenomenal)
  I'm more Ali than Muhammad
  My noodles was Ramen, go Google my diamonds (Go Google)
  I got some shooters in college
  I feel like a coach, I'm recruiting and signing, look
  I still be moving in silence
  I'm ballin' in blue like I'm hooping in Dallas (Ballin')
  Bitch, I don't play for no Mavericks
  You need to think who gon' pay for your casket (Who?)
  Ignorant bastard (
  Hanh
  )
  But I'm still conscious enough to give hope to the masses (
  Hanh
  )
  Watch the coke do gymnastics
   (
  East side
  )
  Dominique Dawes, foreign my car when I'm mashin'
   (
  Hanh
  ) [Verse 5: French Montana]
  Chain, busting it down
  Wrist, busting it down (Down)
  Your bitch busting it down (Down)
  Rap game, I'm fucking it now (Pow)
  I could be a jeweler (Jeweler)
  Neck, that's Slick the Ruler (Ruler)
  You niggas is comedy (Bling)
  Talking fast like Bone Thugs-N-Harmony (Harmony)
  KRS-One, Big L flows (Flows)
  Son of a gun with the Buffalo ('Lo)
  Head on my wrist is a P1 (One)
  Made more money than E1 (One)
  One time Chinx, two time Yams (Yams)
  Get the money, slide like a violin (Violin)
  You know my nigga Max almost home? (Ha)
  You know who run the East Coast zone, nigga? (Ha)
  (
  Maybach Music
  )
  [Verse 6: Rick Ross]
  In the kitchen, culinary, I could whip a Bloody Mary
  And I wish that blood would dead me, I'ma get your brother buried
  Gangbanging with your halo, business on the payphone
  Bitches pussies drying up like Taz's Angels
  Never was a client 'cause that boy ain't buying it
  And I got a bottom bitch, my top come on consignment
  Step up from the minor league, double-M the dynasty
  No, I never sold dope; I just got me a finder's fee
  Following my frequency, niggas rapping week to week
  Suckers be so weak to me; text, but don't speak to me
  You can never speak for me, see the B.I. chemistry
  Check into the crazy house, I'ma turn the labels out
  [Chorus: A$AP Ferg]
  Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up
  Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (Remix)
  Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up
  All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up (All right)
  This that East Coast, motherfucker (Ooh)
  But I know this West Coast— (Snoop Dogg!)
  [Verse 7: Snoop Dogg]
  Ten-twenty was my date of birth, the day I came to Earth
  Bottle-sipping, love to burp, young nigga that's doing dirt
  "Long Beach" across my shirt, all y'all niggas gon' get murked
  What the fuck is you talkin' bout? Me and Ferg, we gon' put in work
  Bang on you, gang culture, out of this world
  It's all on a bitch—is she a Blood? Is she a Crip?
  Don't slip, think not, on the block where it's hot
  Legalize with the nines, give a fuck about a cop
  Real shit, this is it, from the bottom to the Bay
  This is anybody K, California all day
  Yes sir, on the curb, Mossberg by the van
  Lil' homies on the roof with the "blam, blam, blam!"
  Long Beach, popping pill on 'em
  I been working so hard, nigga, get your bale on
  I been working so hard, nigga, work to sell somethin'
  I been working so hard, welcome to the Hell-zone, zone, zone
  [Chorus: A$AP Ferg & 
  Snoop Dogg
  ]
  See I'm from Long Beach
  Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up
  Run it up, run it up, run it up, run it up (Remix)
  See I'm from Long Beach
  Fuck that shit, we get turnt 'til the sun is up
  All of you niggas get burnt when the gun is up (Oww, all right)
  See I'm from Long Beach
  This that East Coast, motherfucker
  California, motherfucker, see I'm from Long Beach
  Call me "Mr. East Coast," motherfucker (
  Long Beach
  )
  West Coast