[HOOK] Come thru the eastside .. come thru tho yeah, come thru tho Come thru the eastside .. come thru tho yeah, come thru tho [HOOK] Yo, come thru the Eastside In that 98 Honda, like oh my- Goodness, saying this life shit’s a game. Well, if that’s the case, then my tickets, they be court side. Demoralized by transgressions lately People gon' hate me, friends they gon' save me. Ain’t got no one to call my baby yet,  But ill give you my number and you can call me maybe. twenty-two years old without a clue what im gon do with that thing called a love life i shy away from fights and drama and i sure as hell dont want no baby mama im on top of the tight rope, precarious boat rockin results, would be disastrous i been over this, a hundred many times in my mind, but a conclusion’s what i cant find like, i spy with my little eye back to the games, fuck it, flip the table over acting like a dumb drunk asshole (shit) which is pretty sad, ‘cause im sober mind childish, body gettin’ older remember, all those long beach days cruisin’ down PCH with greg windows reassessed for the sake sun’s rays [HOOK] *empty verse* [HOOK] *empty verse* [HOOK]

bitch I’m on that new shit emd trap movement grab the record, screw it, chop it up and call it music metric units taught taught to students who sought drugs as the solution rolled for distribution, they prosecutin don’t you know, this a revolution. roman x, tens im dealin, she the ex, how you feelin professor X, straight up mutant. slangin x, quad stacks for real and i don’t give a fuck, just get my money doe, leave you straight up in the cold I be leanin stupid low all alone. rock ’em sock 'em trap bot, word to my home block. what up, shout out, ms bach black cherry maybach. stop, figured the bass gon drop marathon, chasin the guwop. straight to the top, while I’m burnin the crops wild’in, screamin’ “I DONT GIVE A FAUK” them rocks. ill break em off and never come down ridin ‘round with that thump sound. doubt mobbin’ with the pack now. thats clap gang, swim fam. call me bacon this white boy ham. joey bags with the tech like bam fucked ya day up when our night began. im an old world god appeaser bring the heat, so they call me fever no italiano, mafiasto but still leanin, tower, pisa jump on that shit like a feature break the whole song, then i leave it fake or lame, i say neither doubt will rap ’til surpassing jesus. rest in pieces, yo, i mean it keenest cracker, spit the beast shit. ..but i aint even break a sweat, cause i already seen this. swisher sweet technology mixed with a little greek mythology but you can’t stop me, I’m hurcules and i know one thing, you aint mercin’ me