Miami Weather

We going to war hop on a plane I'm going aboard
Spending our money that we can't afford
Can't fuck with these bitches they get me so bored
I be with my mans run up these bands gotta die rich I came up poor
I was on the block came up with a plan no more droughts I'm making it pour
I'm talking that money I'm talking that breesh
I cannot fuck with a thot with a treesh
Pick that bitch up and throw her for the streets
Hop in the booth I'm walking on beats
I'm walking on water got designer feets
Gotta stay silent Im boutta go preach
Like a professor I'm boutta go teach
Miami weather let's go hit the beach

I cannot fuck with a thottie can't talk about bodies I just gotta lay low
Chico be catching these bodies he talking bout homis he finna get K-rolled
Don't do no shit for nobody don't play with my body I'm not on no payroll
Flipping that pack out my lobby don't try to go rob me I stick to my pesos
Bitches just steady be calling my phone I feel like I'm Little Tjay
But you know I do not pick up the phone less she gon gimme that Bj
Sipping on Henny I'm sipping Patron used to go sip on some EJ
Telling my momma it's time to move on I hit the block hit the freeway

Tryna get paid talking bout millies not minimum wage
She wanna get laid tell her get ready pull up to her place
Couple of blunts to the face my body feel heavy my mind in a haze
Running like this shit a race I get to the fetti a hunnid a day
Don't got the time to go play too busy spitting these facts
I just go keep it a buck Imma go keep it a stack
I gotta flip me a pack I cannot lack wake up and hustle I'll never go slack
Remember them days I was stuck in the trap tryna give momma a couple o' racks

I cannot fuck with these thotties all over my body they so outta line
Spending that money on designer clothes then they go out to go dine
I done packed up and moved outta my mommas crib telling me I'm outta my mind
Gotta go hustle I gotta get to it I feel like I ran outta time
Ran outta dimes I gotta reup 'member them times they ain't never see us
Now they wanna be us they could never be us this is word to Jesus shawty wanna please us
Talk on the phone then she wanna meet us tryna take my life so I keep that tucked
Gotta stay T'd up I ain't tryna bleed up me and bro locked up I'm yelling free us

Don't need no friends get to the bag I get to the M's
Starting my wave I'm starting a tide don't follow nobody don't fuck with no trends
Blocks what I bend if my bro ever broke give some money to lend
Talking that shit I can't fuck with no opps couple o' shots my shootah go send
Focused on money I'm chasing a bag I'm chasing an M I call it a millie
They looking like clowns they moving so silly I fuck them crips I fuck with my billy's
Shawty a hoe like a treesh at a telly I'm bussing em sales they ringing my celly
I trap out the spot I trap on the block I fuck with the ocks let me trap out the deli

Hop on a plane with the gang taking a trip to Miami
Getting real litty with gang we be so drippy like Fivi
I do this shit for the streets no I do not need a Grammy
I do this shit for the fam couple hunnid to my granny
Just wanna get lit now too much energy can't sit down
I be with ya bitch now look like a clown you look like a bitch now
I feel like the shit now on my way to the top can't quit now
I'm tryna get rich now flood out the wrist get my wrist drowned

I'm talking that money I'm talking that breesh
I cannot fuck with a thot with a treesh
Pick that bitch up and throw her for the streets
Hop in the booth I'm walking on beats
I'm walking on water got designer feets
Gotta stay silent I'm boutta go preach
Like a professor I'm boutta go teach
Miami weather let's go hit the beach



Credits
Writer(s): Joshua Bae
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link