Sad Millionaire lyrics

Can I do my thang??

*(Yukmouth)*

Speak on it

*(Brownstone)*

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

Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh
n*ggas be havin the mutha f*ckin 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 n*ggas 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
n*gga, up in these high-speedaz
Police they be the Rosco P. Coltrane
Swervin in an outta lanes
Runnin from O-H-A
With a throw-away
A throw-away
Pistol
Every mutha f*cka 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 n*ggas slangin all my rocks
Point yo gats at me
I don't know where uzis to yo knot
Fo f*ckin wit the big shot
I was juss flat droppin g bannos on the ground
Be down
That's one of my sh*t, an get shot
Only the baddest b*tches jock
Get chosen
Global shouts
For b*tches out there who be voguin
On the collar of poppa
Brand new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa
Where n*ggas 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 n*ggas juss created a monsta
f*ck a type, I smoke gonga
In the Bahammas
f*ckin yo baby mama
Doggystyle (whoo,wee!)
Two wow, you wow
Doubt man
Who wow "Bout it, Bout it"
n*ggas 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, b*tch!!
Ya mind is Smoke-A-Lot
Grab b*tches by the throat-a-lot
That's what ya told the cops
I hold the Glock
Aim it an fire
Retire another n*gga
Nameless
Game is fo hire
Desire chariots fire
Light as I'm a tuck her
We're so called "potnaz", f*ck '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 f*ckaz got meal tickets you might have to love 'em
An that's fo real
n*gga
Chorus x5

*(Yukmouth talking during chorus)*

Have all this f*ckin money, an still ain't happy. n*gga, still got
Problems wit stress, mutha f*ckaz juss think you got it made, they try
To rob you an sh*t, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna love you. f*ck
Money, I wish I didn't have it, cuz when I didn't have it it was all
Good, n*ggas loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an sh*t at the store
Now ya got money everybody wanna kill me, n*gga, ya own relatives wanna
Do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, make a million bucks
Millionaire