Morgan Wallen - Miami (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Morgan Wallen - Miami (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
(Miami) It ain't nothin' like
where I'm from, nah
Yeah, I can't keep my gun
in my truck in Miami
They don't know my name at these bars
And you can't even see
any stars in Miami
You got me MIA for a couple days now
But it don't hit the same as
my Tennessee town (Miami)
Except for gettin' sand in my boots
Ask yourself, "What the hell is
a redneck gon' do in Miami?"
Miami
Yeah, yeah
Mula
Now it get cold in New Orleans,
but temporary
And she know that I'm colder
than Refrigerator Perry
And she don't wanna go to
New Orleans 'cause I'm a
Gator, so we go to south
Beach, just say it's perfect 'fore our
wedding, now stop sweating in a
Cherokee, without the doors, don't
get no sand in my Jeep
I'm 'bout to call, she look
at me like "Nigga, please,
" so I please the bitch
We up in Liv on Sunday, I'm
like, "Jesus, bitch"
Party in the 305, we so high, we
go live, you're my C-O-bride
Can't believe your eyes for
eatin' that prime rib
I eat so much shrimp, I
got iodine poisonin'
I can't even swim, but I could
throw a yacht party
We're real lit in Miami
I'm like Will Smith in Miami
I'm like Uncle Luke, Trick Daddy
Me and Trina almost got married, shit
Got a bando on Collins
Can't see stars, just Star Island
I got a target on my wallet, but like
Morgan, boy, I'm wildin' in Miami
(Miami) It ain't nothin' like
where I'm from, nah (Nothin'
like where I'm from)
Yeah, I can't keep my gun in my truck
in Miami (I still keep my gun)
They don't know my name at these
bars (They don't know my name)
And you can't even see
any stars inMiami
But it don't hit the same as
my Tennessee town (Miami,
it don't hit the same)
Except for gettin' sand
in my boots (Yeah)
Yeah, ask yourself, "What the hell
is a nigga gon' do in Miami?"
Biggest boss, Ricky Rose, uh
Feelin' good in my two seater
Top down, it's too easy
Yacht season in Miami
Sun's out, too breezy
Swimsuits on South Beach
Condo for my side piece
Change of plans, let's just shop
Blue duffle bag, two hundred G's
Life's short, so live fast
Corvette with the rear rag
Cry once, not twice
Really hurt when my dad pass
Make a toast, let's drink to it
Still real with my day ones
And I'm still down to die for you
Pray for me when my day comes
It ain't nothin' like where I'm from
But like Morgan, boy, I'm wildin'
Please support me on PATREON Thank you!