Miles Away - Blu & Exile, Blu, Exile

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

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 nine figures

He was probably fucking with bitches

My mama missed 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, that 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 spending they nights in prison 'cause they fucking careless

I’m tryna be spending my nights in Paris rolling a fucking square up

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 trying to go further than yesterday

I’m just trying to go further than yesterday

Las Vegas and Los Angeles

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

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 trying to go further than yesterday

I’m just trying to go further than yesterday

My nigga, Virginia, New York, New Jersey

Indiana, Detroit, Cali, Chicago

St. Louis, Montana, back to Africa

My nigga, Sudan, the motherland

Amsterdam and Japan

And in the 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

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 whack

I’m tryna feel fact, 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 there ain’t nowhere to hide

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 trying to go further than yesterday

I’m just trying to go further than yesterday