Lyrics:
beyond our skies
Surfer girls become foxy ladies
Their minds are blowing The flowers calling
Eight miles high and now they're falling
Hot California
MC dissing
I'm just here to present the rep of my group
We gots flavor, styles by the miles hoes and flows too
I'm tough actin like Tinactin for
many roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worryied about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
[Verse 1]
I just left the mall gettin' fresh as I can
Can't hardly walk cause I got so many bags in my hand
I'm spinnin' like that eight, winkin'
Cut your head off, guillotine
Henry VI I I style
Y'all reminding me of Cheddar Bob in 8 Mile
I wanna see everybody in the place wild
Anybody move
Buck
the music start
Sikur ke lind n'8mile
Cruising down the boulevard
Nuk jam pint but I'm hot
Nuk jam pint but i'm hot
Nuk pi lean but i'm hot
E kill 1 beat e
I put new moves in my discipline
I'll come to you if you feeling the man
Pin drop your positioning
8 miles away just like Michigan man
Even when I
night
Let me tell these fucks about 8 Mile road
And how we run this bitch, let the truth be told
Black truck convoys stretching East to West
With little
Remember more than two years back
Its frighting how time could go by so fast
That you don't even notice when its gone.
There's something about ohio
Detroit, I been to the lou
Was chilling on 8 mile r.I.P proof
I can't lie boy I swear that we get it in
Talk about dev & I promise we spending Benz
Young
Pondering
Pontificate my work
Stick with words you stick to logos on the shirt
You wonder if it works
I never question me
Guided by
Something finger
But, shit, I see the frustration
I need an explanation
Why do bitches wanna play with my style?
Like Eminem, I'm runnin 8 miles
Put a list down, you in
roads
I was living to run and running to live
Never worryied about paying or even how much I owed
Moving eight miles a minute for months at a time
listen
No 8 Mile, B-Rabbit the second I spit it
I gotta have it i gotta do it
Never dab it like my homie at the crib
This is how we do it
Put it in
So much talent in my eight-year-old child
cn inch full of direction
Her comprehension runs for miles
I must write to this brilliance
I must fill in her
I've been running down a dark road
It's been sketchy from the get-go
Fifty miles til I get home
And you know that I'll be making good time
See
ain't dropped nothing a while
These rappers are dead, you're better than all of them by a mile
They all sound the same, there ain't not one of them with
the junkies third person, I'ma catch the powers
A hundred fifty miles away, that's only two hours
All my lines gettin' hot, I served too many flowers
VPN,
of ice in it
My three-fifty-seven pretty but ain't nothin nice in it
Too many bitches and not enough rubbers
Got so many of my real niggaz under
into the ground. Come & lay me down beside you here in this ground, with five thousand more.
One fifty passed & the hunger is gone now the feeling
offense cuz it's more
Fun to run it and score
But I'm reminded what the guns is for
And I'm reminded what the purpose
Of hard-slumming was for
To publish
rocker
Came with nought-point-eight of the dizz
Might have 3.5 of the proper, chopper
Football sticker swapper
Used to nick 50p out your locker
break down the weed in my rap
I was born about eight miles in the city of dope
Meanin' my city is the city of dope
Weigh the coke, Caddy spokes,
I´m on my way
No one around me could tell me to stay
After so long
I travel the miles just to see if your home
Lala lala
Time has told me not to wait
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