Yeah, I'm on my way to Miami, man.I'm feeling real Miami-ish up in the booth right now.You feel me?Do that, do that, do that, do that.I told y'all.Do that, do that, do that, do that.They get mad because I have fun.Yeah, that's what it is, baby.I just died in your arms.Hip-hop weekly, week 18 and a half.It must have been something to say.Yeah, I just died in your arms.How y'all gonna get mad at me because I have fun with what I do?You got your own life, nigga.Live your own life.Oh, oh, oh.Yeah, get ready on the right, ready on the left.Spaghetti color, don't put a Chevy on the set.Niggas know I get my fettie on the death.Frozen Evian, ice heavy on the neck.Day County, you're holding weight.Put on my fresh linen, it's close to eight.Pull up at the Hit Factory and blow at the gate.Let me in, it's your boy from the Golden State.I hit the mic with my million dollar mask.Out peace, and I'm out peace.I'm belting the South Beach.* a dress code, I'm demanding my respect.White T-C-O-B, bandana on my neck.I hit the floor, two chicks saying, let's dance.Fat ass and juicy couture sweatpants.Popping pills and pears, call them X-Clan.Never be your groom, but I'm the best man.Oh, I just died in your arms tonight.I see you haters.It must have been something to say.I just died in your arms.I don't focus on you.Too long.Thanks for the motivation, though.It's C-O-B.We do what we want to do.Yeah.Hip Hop Weekly, week 18.I just died in your arms tonight.Club Rolex, I miss you.It must have been something to say.Club Coco, I miss you.I just died in your arms tonight.You too, solid gold.I'll be back, though.Damn, it feel good to see crooked up on it.You only live once, get lost in the moment.Come on, man.I don't know why opponents say they want it.Tone it down a bit, the beef, I call it on it.Take a chromosome from Capone and you clone it.Cross it with Bob Johnson and I'm what you gon' get.When I'm on your head, who you gon' get?Crumbs, pick, don't split, nigga, no *.You ain't never in the hood, you a mystery.Like a pregnant pit bull, you a bitch to me.Circle of bosses, yeah, that's the clique to be.Every week, we be dropping hot * for free.Getting still, pussy niggas wanna talk bad.Till you take off on them just like a launch pad.Send them home to the hole, the one we all have.Really, I'm the one your kids should call dad.Oh, I just died in your arms tonight.I'm more focused on niggas who love the movement.C-O-B, circle of bosses.You know what I mean?I just died in your arms tonight.Everybody's supporting this motherfucking movement.I love y'all to death.And we gon' keep dropping this * on them.Oh, I just died in your arms tonight.They say if you love something, you do this * for free.I love this *, nigga.Yeah, I just died in your arms tonight.Hip-hop weekly, * it, week 18 and a half.Just to let y'all know I love y'all for the support, feel me?Yeah, it's the C-R-O-O-K, hoes gon' make me pull another O-J.Bitch nagging me, I don't love her, no way.Hand me a condom, bitch, * the foreplay.Okay, I might change my ways.Partner nigga, I'm gangsta raised.Stack my chips, can save and pay.But I'd rather hit the club and make it rain for days, like, oh, yeah.I just died in your arms tonight.I just died in your arms tonight.Now, that's for you motherfuckin' haters.It must have been something you said.COP, nigga.I just died in your arms tonight.Spreadin' all over the world like a disease.Yeah, I mean.Oh, oh, oh.Sup, Smitty?Feli?I just died in your arms tonight.Yeah, I'm fuckin' with this *.Had to make it work tonight, you know what I mean?I had to motherfuckin' hard top biz.Cruisin' down Sunset, bangin' this * back to back to back.I had to make it work tonight.Not the instrumental, though, the real song.I was like, * that *.I got to hop on that *.You know what I mean?Yeah.Hip-hop weekly.We ain't stopping.Boss, the album.New West Anthem.Miami, I'm coming.Collins Ave.Doors up.Y'all know what to do.Crooked Eye.