Pitbull - Dem Miami Boyz lyrics

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Pitbull - Dem Miami Boyz lyrics

[Intro] DJ Noodles! Mr. 305 checking in! Doing what I do best (Ha Ha Ha) You know what that is, right? Jumping on the track and letting the world Know what it means to be a 305 representer I started this sh** (He's back!) Now watch me [Hook] That's dem Miami boyz With them dade county face Movin weight, we dem boyz they love to hate That's dem Miami boyz With a head full of dreads Mouth full of golds Watch out for chicos and them zoes That's dem Miami boyz Always lookin for a lick Be careful we don't end up in yo sh** That's dem Miami boyz 305 till we die That's right motherf**er let's ride [Verse 1] Remember that new chico Chris that used to play ball Skinny with a mushroom cut about yay tall He's pushin rhymes like what they call him, Pitbull? I've seen him in a club with a dime every time Yeah, that's right, that's me That little chico that [?] from 305 k** me but my legacy won't die I'ma always rap for M-I-A-M-I Dade County, right, we down to die We down to co*k, rap the five Check the books, when it comes to the c**aine we cook Cause we came from the bottom We got them things in the bottom man Straight, raw, uncut, [?] step on it It's alright dog, Miami, we've been slept on Keep sleeping if you want to And find your mother trying to wake you up At your wake motherf**er Black ma**, black gloves, duct tape, AK We always do it big around here baby ba-by! [Hook] [Verse 2] I don't play, I don't snitch I'm from Dade, I'll switch You can smell, I'm the sh** Take an L, take a hit When the chico here spit Or the sh** hit the fan You'll be crying through the tag C'mon boy, be a man In the hood they got keys They got quarters, they got grams We'll rob everything, I'm from Florida, understand That's the president, it's evident Wherever there's some ham We were taught to say nothing on the stand Now that's the real [Hook] [Verse 3] I grew up looking up to drug dealers Idolizing what they do an*lyzing they every move Miami breeds them on the regular But you can tell who's professional By the way they talk on the cellular I took your Miami to new heights Now they coming down looking for Pit Like I'ma prick at a new price I done gave the streets new life Like bricks in the drought Banana clips man we pulling them out Hustlers we filling them out To see if they're willing or not To put they're freedom on the line When the feds start playing tricks on they mind Like them ghettos boys Fiends on bikes with no tires, that's ghetto boy So all them hustlers on the corner sitting on milk crates May your dreams come true one day To all my boys behind bars, you know who you are Keep your head up, I promise I got you [Hook]