Letter from Miami

I just touched down in the yams, I did a lot in a month

Came from hand to handing grams and now I'm stacking it up

Running it up up

Yeah, we run it up up

I signed that deal, feel like I sold my soul

I'm on the road, feel like I got no home

I hit hibachis for a plate to go

I want that m but murder all she wrote

And when we slide we get it back in blood

I know this game no love

I know this game too well

Fuck that bitch right off the Gram

But I don't kiss and tell

She don't get Chanel

I done ran up like a hunnid

I can't take no Ls

And we started from the bottom, we couldn't do no well

Ducking from the fed cars

Now we rocking chrome hearts

Feel like I just beat the odds

Mama got a gold star

On the road to riches still but they feel like I'm so gone

Imagine when it's all gone

I just touched down in the yams I did a lot in a month

Came from hand to handing grams and now I'm stacking it up

Running it up, up

Yeah we run it up, up

Swear my next deal I need a couple m's

I play the black truck for a play the Benz

And only time I ever play to win

I said it once and I won't say it again

If you my bitch then we gon' count them ends

I promise I won't slay your friend

Had to close that back door

Made it off my trap phone

**** fake, won't last long

Cartier my eyes swole

Ran it up, ain't satisfied

Feelings that I won't put aside

Things that I won't let it die

Say that I got too much pride

And I done ran it up with all my dogs until the ending

We been counting up them ends

And I done ran it up with all my dogs until the ending

We been counting up them ends

And I done got the pressure

Staying in my lane

Promise we gon' win

I said I promise we gon' win