Blu, EXILE, C. S. Armstrong - Miles Away lyrics

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 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
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 spendin' they nights in
Prison 'cause they fuckin' 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 tryna go further than yesterday, yeah
I'm just tryna go further than yesterday

Uh, Las Vegas and Los Angeles
Uh, 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

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

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?
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