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