(feat. Brownstone)

Can I do my thang??


[Yukmouth]


Speak on it.

[Brownstone]


Oh, oh, ohhh.
Oh, oh, ohh, hey.


[Verse 1: Yukmouth]


Uh.
^!$$%z be havin the mutha $#&@in blues,
like 5-0-5's

I won't lie,
homicide,
gram will cry,

pray for me that I won't die,
suicide,
I won't try,

bullets fly,
drive-by,
don't let it slide, do or die,

you an I, slide by,
catch them ^!$$%z off my side,
wit nothin to hide body die rot,

on they porch,
when I expectin some sort of drive-by,
type retaliation,

under styles I lace, MOBBulation,
lets begin breakin down the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,

so while we racin down the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the cops is waitin to umm,
accelerate on yo vehicle,

run down yo vehicle,
even if they have to gun down yo vehicle,
^!$$%, up in these high-speedaz,

police they be the Rosco Bico train,
swervin in an outta lanes,
runnin from O-H-A,

what they throw away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,

every mutha $#&@a wanna peep.

[Chorus x2: Brownstone & Yukmouth]


Millionaire!
Dreams of big millions play.

Ever seen a sad millionaire?
I thought that money make us happy.


[Verse 2: Yukmouth]

What if I was a millionaire,

huh,
a major playa on the block,
that a mac daddy, drivin a black Caddy couldn't stop,

hella strap happy,
cuz ^!$$%z slangin all my rocks,
point yo gats at me,

I don't know where uzis to yo knot,
fo $#&@in wit the big shot,
I was juss flat droppin g bannos on the ground,

be down,
that's one of my %#@!, an get shot,
only the baddest (*##$es jock,

get chosen,
global shouts,
for (*##$es out there who be voguin,

on the collar of poppa,
brand new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa,
where ^!$$%z strapped fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
cuz I be high like phone doctor,

spark on vodka,
eatin lobster, bumpin Frank Sinatra,
Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who shot ya,
like Vinny Blanca,
come back in the end juss to haunt ya,

plus I twist a Benz like Big Poppa,
what's the big proper use,
go get yo bread an do what ya gots to be a,
millionaire playa.


[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: Yukmouth]

Uh.

You ^!$$%z juss created a monsta,
$#&@ a type, I smoke gonga,
in the Bahammas,
$#&@in yo baby mama,
doggystyle (whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,

doubt man,
who wow "Bout it, Bout it",
^!$$%z be claimin they be the Ice Cream Man,
but I doubt it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the paper chasin clout it,
sky up out the ugly four day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,

smokin blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh outta drug rehabs,
spend two g's at every function I be at,
believe that, !#$*!!
Ya mind is Smoke-A-Lot,
grab (*##$es by the throat-a-lot,
that's what ya told the cops,

I hold the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire another ^!$$%,
nameless,
game is fo hire,
desire chariots fire,
light as I'm a tuck her,

we're so called "potnaz", $#&@ 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I can't rush 'em,
gotta bust 'em,
too skinny I can't trust 'em,
an when the mutha $#&@az got meal tickets you might have to love 'em,
an that's fo real.
^!$$%.


[Chorus x5]

[Yukmouth: talking during chorus]

Have all this $#&@in money, an still ain't happy. ^!$$%, still got
problems wit stress, mutha $#&@az juss think you got it made, they try

to rob you an %#@!, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna love you. $#&@
money, I wish I didn't have it, cuz when I didn't have it it was all
good, ^!$$%z loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an %#@! at the store.
Now ya got money everybody wanna kill me, ^!$$%, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, make a million bucks.
Millionaire.