Eastside

Uh, I'm from the East Side section of your area
 I ain't bullshittin', corners I be hitting
 Just the morning edition,
 Champagne, orange juice mixing
 Fell asleep in the studio, woke up on a mission
 Wall Street wolf, these lil' niggas shook
 When we walked in the room
 They ain't know where to look
 That eye contact might result in combat
 My hands clean
 I don't know who wrote that contract
 Youngsters huntin', murdin' for hire, doing numbers
 Trade your life for a Camaro this summer
 Ain't nothin' where I come from
 But I come up quite different
 Spitting that zigzag, raw raps, spit shit
 Major wrist get you that big bag
 All the Ziploc with that motherfuckin' toe tag
 But we the Taylor Gang, Jet Lyfe, us high-flyers never die
 It's 20 inch BMX bikes, stomp pegs, grip pliers
 Now me and Pittsburgh Slim is both post drivers
 Sit by, talkin' shit about us
 But you need to get like us
 'Cause you know our shit is always tighter
 Always flyer, we just 2009-ed you
 Uh, no pain, no gain, I treat 'em the same
 If it ain't my strain, it ain't in my brain
 The boss, the man, nothing in between
 Them niggas be gone as soon as they came
 My car go fast, wash it in the rain
 My chain is cold, diamonds in my rings
 I get respect not because of fame
 You hate, you lame, I don't entertain
 My shoes, my fit, cost a little change
 She was your chick, now she with the gang
 Just rolled a zip, now I need a flame
 Well known, it don't gotta be explained
 My Benz, or I'm hopping out a plane
 Jet Lyfe the gang, all of it the same
 New crib, put our logo on everything
 Plus worldwide, they know our name
 That's on gang, Lyfe
 Jet Taylor, smoke the best flavors
 
 Uh, I'm from the East Side section of your area
 I ain't bullshittin', corners I be hitting
 Just the morning edition,
 Champagne, orange juice mixing
 Fell asleep in the studio, woke up on a mission
 Wall Street wolf, these lil' niggas shook
 When we walked in the room
 They ain't know where to look
 That eye contact might result in combat
 My hands clean
 I don't know who wrote that contract
 Youngsters huntin', murdin' for hire, doing numbers
 Trade your life for a Camaro this summer
 Ain't nothin' where I come from
 But I come up quite different
 Spitting that zigzag, raw raps, spit shit
 Major wrist get you that big bag
 All the Ziploc with that motherfuckin' toe tag
 But we the Taylor Gang, Jet Lyfe, us high-flyers never die
 It's 20 inch BMX bikes, stomp pegs, grip pliers
 Now me and Pittsburgh Slim is both post drivers
 Sit by, talkin' shit about us
 But you need to get like us
 'Cause you know our shit is always tighter
 Always flyer, we just 2009-ed you
 Uh, no pain, no gain, I treat 'em the same
 If it ain't my strain, it ain't in my brain
 The boss, the man, nothing in between
 Them niggas be gone as soon as they came
 My car go fast, wash it in the rain
 My chain is cold, diamonds in my rings
 I get respect not because of fame
 You hate, you lame, I don't entertain
 My shoes, my fit, cost a little change
 She was your chick, now she with the gang
 Just rolled a zip, now I need a flame
 Well known, it don't gotta be explained
 My Benz, or I'm hopping out a plane
 Jet Lyfe the gang, all of it the same
 New crib, put our logo on everything
 Plus worldwide, they know our name
 That's on gang, Lyfe
 Jet Taylor, smoke the best flavors
 
 Uh, I'm from the East Side section of your area
 I ain't bullshittin', corners I be hitting
 Just the morning edition,
 Champagne, orange juice mixing
 Fell asleep in the studio, woke up on a mission
 Wall Street wolf, these lil' niggas shook
 When we walked in the room
 They ain't know where to look
 That eye contact might result in combat
 My hands clean
 I don't know who wrote that contract
 Youngsters huntin', murdin' for hire, doing numbers
 Trade your life for a Camaro this summer
 Ain't nothin' where I come from
 But I come up quite different
 Spitting that zigzag, raw raps, spit shit
 Major wrist get you that big bag
 All the Ziploc with that motherfuckin' toe tag
 But we the Taylor Gang, Jet Lyfe, us high-flyers never die
 It's 20 inch BMX bikes, stomp pegs, grip pliers
 Now me and Pittsburgh Slim is both post drivers
 Sit by, talkin' shit about us
 But you need to get like us
 'Cause you know our shit is always tighter
 Always flyer, we just 2009-ed you
 Uh, no pain, no gain, I treat 'em the same
 If it ain't my strain, it ain't in my brain
 The boss, the man, nothing in between
 Them niggas be gone as soon as they came
 My car go fast, wash it in the rain
 My chain is cold, diamonds in my rings
 I get respect not because of fame
 You hate, you lame, I don't entertain
 My shoes, my fit, cost a little change
 She was your chick, now she with the gang
 Just rolled a zip, now I need a flame
 Well known, it don't gotta be explained
 My Benz, or I'm hopping out a plane
 Jet Lyfe the gang, all of it the same
 New crib, put our logo on everything
 Plus worldwide, they know our name
 That's on gang, Lyfe
 Jet Taylor, smoke the best flavors