Intro:]
(Ayy, this Florida sh*t different)
Palm trees and pain, sunshine with rain
Jet ski dreams, stick ridin’ with the gang
Yuh—
⸻
[Verse 1:]
I’m from the land of the gators, the Glocks, and the golds
Where the sun still shine but your heart turn cold
Used to post by the Shell, now I ride on the coast
Got a Cuban on my neck, and this .40 real close
Ridin’ dirty with the tool in the seat
B*tch, don’t talk if you ain’t from the street
I was broke in the ‘jects, now I’m up with a fleet
And I still serve a jit if he talkin’ bout heat
Backwoods fat, got my eyes all low
She poppin’ that p*ssy, I’m countin’ this dough
Florida boy, I don’t move too slow
Slide in the dark with that stick like a pro
⸻
[Hook:]
I’m a Florida boy, I don’t dance, I slide
From the sticks to the beach, got that fk-you vibe
Publix sub in the whip, with a .9 on the side
Either ride or get rolled on, fk pickin’ a side
Yeah, heat in the streets, so I ride with that flame
Got the sun on my back and this pain in my brain
From the 850 down to Dade
We don’t pray for peace, we just aim and spray
⸻
[Verse 2:]
Panhandle to the Bay, btch, I’m known in the trap
Still got packs, still duckin’ them rats
Tryna beef? Put a price on his cap
I ain’t never been sweet, btch I came from the crack
Got a thick lil’ ho from the ‘Lo rockin’ slides
Talkin’ all slick while she grip on the thighs
She know I’m a dog, but she f**k with my pride
’Cause I came out the mud with that Glock on my side
Ain’t no cappin’ in my rap, this real-ass life
Put a switch on the stick, now it bark like a pipe
Had to sleep with the roaches, now my chain hit light
Still a Florida jit, but I’m sharp like a knife
⸻
[Hook:]
I’m a Florida boy, I don’t dance, I slide
From the sticks to the beach, got that fk-you vibe
Publix sub in the whip, with a .9 on the side
Either ride or get rolled on, fk pickin’ a side
Yeah, heat in the streets, so I ride with that flame
Got the sun on my back and this pain in my brain
From the 850 down to Dade
We don’t pray for peace, we just aim and spray
⸻
[Outro:]
Welcome to the swamp, where the snakes stay hid
Where your own damn blood might snitch for a bid
Florida-raised, got pain in my rib
And I still got that stick like I’m slidin’ off grid
afljit
