Biscayne Songtext

Write a letter to my old self, know you don't want no help
High is where your head's held, you should take it
Promises get broken, know your path is chosen
In my head, I had to write a

Letter to myself, hope this shit'll help
Road ahead's a hill, but I wish you well
Have to move in stealth, have to help yourself
Take the cards you're dealt, no matter how you felt

I can take this down from Broadway to Biscayne ('Cayne)
Rather show you all the ways than to explain ('Plain)
Picture perfect, it's nice, but won't maintain ('Tain)
Golden days, olden days, oh, well, shit changed

Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh
Ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh, ooh-ooh, ooh Ooh, ooh-ooh