MIAMI EN EL GPS

Checks come daily
If now I'm singing in stadiums (yeah, yeah)
We're playing at a legendary level
I'm the best, bitch, read my lips (uh-uh)
The radio deceives, the account doesn't lie
I'm seven zeros in the checking account (yeah, yeah)
Shout-out to Sony, to their president
I love taking money from those people (wow)
I rob the rich, I take it to the hood
I have no boss, I have no schedule (yeah, wow)
Baby, a hundred thousand just inside the closet
I have those bitches waiting for the verdict (uh, yeah)
1-9-9-3, yeah
Twelve shows for each month, yeah
White gold and VVS, yeah
Miami in the GPS, yeah (uh)
All those fools talk too much
They talk about the streets without being educated (yeah-yeah)
If you haven't bought a new house for your mom
What the fuck are you talking to me about being broke? (gang-gang)
They're no longer euros, they're dollars
Everything sold in Los Angeles (prr)
A couple of shits envying me
Suck my dick, choke on it (yeah)
Many thought I was going down, but in life everything turns around
Now I have everything I was looking for, I swear I retire at thirty (oh, no)
I'm in Miami throwing bills, I don't know how much I have, I lost count (pew-pew)
I'm with the homie going back home, the bastard put the 'rari at 240

Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
I'm scratching the sky and I'm not New York
Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
Everything I write, I write it on a plane

Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
It's not about money anymore, now it's for fun (ha, [?])
They stayed running after the million
And I don't even remember my first million

Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
I'm scratching the sky and I'm not New York
Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
Everything I write, I write it on a plane

Uoh, uoh, uoh, uoh
It's not about money anymore, now it's for fun (ha, [?])
They stayed running after the million
And I don't even remember my first million

And after selling out all the tickets
Sold out in New York and the
Coming from the island of Mallorca, the singer Rels B
Saturday, May 21st starting at nine in the evening
At the Fillmore in Miami Beach
Yo, check it out

I rob the rich, I take it to the hood
I have no boss, I have no schedule
Baby, a hundred thousand just inside the closet
I have those bitches waiting for the verdict
1-9-9-3, yeah
Twelve shows for each month, yeah
White gold and VVS, yeah
Miami in the GPS, yeah