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Uh, I'm from the East Side section of your area I ain't bullshittin', corners I be hittin' Just the morning edition, champagne, orange juice mixin' 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, doin' numbers Trade your life for a Camaro this summer Ain't nothin' where I come from, but I come up quite different Spittin' 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 Letras de cancionesMy 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 hoppin' 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 From Letras Mania