Lyrics: Fes Taylor. Flight 10304 (T-2 Fly). Window.

[Fes Taylor:]
Cause haters don't want me to shine
They trying to push me right offa my grind, it's bout time
It's G-Unit/Koch, Fox told me bring the Mazzaradi
When it come out, I'm like the sun out
Shine play the shine, with the haters salute
Nowadays, lay in the coupe, I'm just waiting to shoot
Behave in the booth, like the kid slave in Roots
Taylor Made, knock Tiffany's boots
True to the game, I manuever in lanes
Out in L.I., go see my beautiful chain
Free L.I., looking much cooler in the range
So I can Punky Brewster, again
Holla, I'm getting dollars, no Pradas
Nike Air joggers, you niggas like Frogger
Trynna cross the road, crushed by a semi
I live the street life, just trynna get by

[Chorus: Fes Taylor (w/ Flip)]
I'm looking out my window (trapped inside the rocks)
Smoking on this indo (hand up on the glock)
I'm just trynna make it to the top
And they all at the bottom waiting for me to flop
I tell 'em, get off, get off, get off, mines
I tell 'em, get, get, get off mines

[Fes Taylor:]
See niggas wanna be me, steal a style from me
Hate around, jacking my swag, sit it down for me
You a clown, homey, now they know me as
G-5 Taylor, see you niggas on the ground, homey
My flight plans like night grams of Pan Am
Now it's probably playland out in San Fran
Still kick a nigga ass like Van Damme
Exercise, bullets that have 'em doing handstands
You don't stand a chance, hard enough to start fights
And the party still smooth enough to make 'em dance
You see we getting cake in advance
Acres of land, so I talk B.I., paper in hand
I'm a boss C.I., snitching, I don't understand
Tell you probably feel safer in the can
Trust me, you don't like me, then bust me, or rush me
Do something about it, yeah, nigga I doubt it

[Chorus]