This is a song about "East side sucks"

No one seems to understand my struggles, troubled and it sucks,

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

Provided by the arms king of the east side

In this life you dead wrong or ain't living right

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

East side till i die, brooklyn is my residence/

So i can understand police victims

For all you that say my grammar sucks

The best to the least, west to the east, but he's the east coast,

Climbing up the pole, jack and the beanstalk, bitch it's gold

Get the ass shots right

And she stays by my side

Pass that, catch back, fast that

That's why it sucks so bad