LUNIZ lyrics : "Sad Millionaire"
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.
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