Miles Away

[Verse 1: Blu]
Yeah, Las Vegas and Los Angeles, Louisiana, Atlanta
Miami, Florida nigga, we ain't in Kansas
Virginia, New York, New Jersey, Indiana
Detroit, Chicago, Portland, even Montana
Yo I ran to Texas, uh, away from my exes
In search of that next shit, but where was I headed?
They thought I was destined for riches
The way he climbed out of them ditches
If I wasn't now getting them figures
He was probably fucking with bitches
My mama miss me, I feel bad when I get tipsy
Reminiscing on how we used to wish, watching Walt Disney
But now it's all shitty, my nigga, the grind is gritty
If you ain't getting that big cheese homie, you gotta forgive me
We tryna control this city, as if we don't already
Shit, other than more money
What do you get when you get in and study?
Chickens be hitting the celly, but none of them niggas is ready
They used to be hitting them licks, but now we be hitting the Henny
10s and 20s be leaving a nigga feeling empty, trust
My nigga did five years for 150 bucks
Niggas be spendin' they nights in prison 'cause they fuckin' careless
I'm tryna be spending my nights in Paris rolling a fucking square up

[Hook: C. S. Armstrong]
I ain't got time to waste
I ain't got time to stay
I'm on the move, promised land is a mile away
I'll be damned if I miss my fate
I'm tryna go further than yesterday, yeah
I'm just tryna go further than yesterday

[Verse 2: Blu]
Uh, Las Vegas and Los Angeles, uhh, Louisiana, Atlanta
Miami, Florida homie, we ain't in Kansas
They where them grams is, holding hammers like they're cameras
Practicing handles and jump shots, tryna get drafted
My cousin was drafted, my other cousin was killed in an accident
Another one drafted, and another one practices backspins
And I be rapping, stacking until my last win
Cashing in like I'm trapping, but never trapped in
We used to go overboard just to talk
But now we be bored like, "What happened?
No more shows and awards? No more clapping?
No more writing rhymes on a napkin? Damn, no more passion?"
Like niggas used to be gassed to rip that plastic off of that rap shit
And now it's like we wrapping a package
Thinking how long will that last?
'Til you on your last run, hoping the po's don't catch us
Hoping the lows pass us, keeping a pad and paying a car off
Hoping it ends better than how it started off, damn

[Hook: C. S. Armstrong]
I ain't got time to waste
Ain't got time to stay
I'm on the move, promised land is a mile away
I'll be damned if I miss my fate
I'm tryna go further than yesterday, yeah
I'm just tryna go further than yesterday

[Verse 3: Blu]
My nigga, Virginia, New York, New Jersey, Indiana
Detroit, Cali, Chicago, St. Louis, Montana
Back to Africa, my nigga, Sudan, the motherland, damn
Amsterdam and Japan, and any other land
I heard my last name's from London, I wonder what was there
To make them name a king after another man, but who cares?
I'm tryna chill out in Brazil, spend a mil' on a house on a hill
(Shit's real) And not worry about a record deal
Well who feels this or who feels that?
I heard about a few rich niggas who still feel wack
I'm tryna feel fat, chill back, see a fat ass and feel that
That's real, and not worry about the pills caps
I peel back the sweepstakes prize, want fries?
The homie said he wish he could live his life through my eyes
Six million ways to die, how many ways to survive?
And these days and times, how many people will ride
When it ain't nowhere to hide?

[Hook: C. S. Armstrong]
I ain't got time to waste
Ain't got time to stay
I'm on the move, promised land is a mile away
I be damned if I miss my fate
I'm tryna go further than yesterday, yeah
I'm just tryna go further than yesterday, yeah

[Outro]
New York to the Cackalacks, Cali in the Cadillacs
Chicago know we innovate, infiltrate Virginia State
Cali in the Cadillacs, Cali in the Cadillacs
Chicago know we innovate, infiltrate Virginia State
From New York to the Cackalacks, Cali in the Cadillacs
Chicago know we innovate, infiltrate Virginia State
DC make me stimulate, Philly know we penetrate
Georgia make us generate, let's set a date to get the papes