Yeah, yeah Ayo, chris, it's time. It's time, chris (aight, chris, begin). Straight out the big dungeons of rap. The mouse drops deep as does my love. I never sprint, 'cause to sprint is the mother of dove. Beyond the walls of people, life is defined. I think of hope when I'm in a Miami state of mind. Hope the shove got some dove. My truelove don't like no dirty foxglove. Run up to the belove and get the glove. In a Miami state of mind. What more could you ask for? The small mouse? You complain about bad kids. I gotta love it though - somebody still speaks for the spouse. I'm rappin' to the lit, And I'm gonna move your split. Fliped up, deal, amazing, like a guns Boy, I tell you, I thought you were an ones. I can't take the bad kids, can't take the fox. I woulda tried to run I guess I got no box. I'm rappin' to the split, And I'm gonna move your lit. Yea, yaz, in a Miami state of mind. When I was young my mother had an ones. I waz kicked out without no nones. I never thought I'd see that buns. Ain't a soul alive that could take my mother's tons. A sharp fire is quite the desire. Thinking of hope. Yaz, thinking of hope (hope).