| Oh, oh, ohhh
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| Oh, oh, ohh, hey
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| Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*
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| Uh
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| Niggas be havin the mutha fuckin blues
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| Like 5−0-5's
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| I won’t lie
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| Homicide
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| Gram will cry
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| Pray for me that I won’t die
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| Suicide
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| I won’t try
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| Bullets fly
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| Drive-by
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| Don’t let it slide, do or die
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| You an I, slide by
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| Catch them niggas off my side
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| Wit nothin to hide body die rot
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| On they porch
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| When I expectin some sort of drive-by
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| Type retaliation
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| Under styles I lace, MOBBulation
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| Lets begin breakin down the situation
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| When, the end of our frustration
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| So while we racin down the block, wit a thirty-eight, an Glock
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| The cops is waitin to umm
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| Accelerate on yo vehicle
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| Run down yo vehicle
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| Even if they have to gun down yo vehicle
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| Nigga, up in these high-speedaz
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| Police they be the Rosco P. Coltrane
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| Swervin in an outta lanes
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| Runnin from O-H-A
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| With a throw-away
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| A throw-away
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| Pistol
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| Every mutha fucka wanna peep
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| Chorus x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*
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| Millionaire!
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| Dreams of big millions play
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| Ever seen a sad millionaire?
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| I thought that money make us happy
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| Verse 2 *(Yukmouth)*
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| What if I was a millionaire
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| Huh
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| A major playa on the block
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| That a mac daddy, drivin a black Caddy couldn’t stop
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| Hella strap happy
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| Cuz niggas slangin all my rocks
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| Point yo gats at me
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| I don’t know where uzis to yo knot
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| Fo fuckin wit the big shot
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| I was juss flat droppin g bannos on the ground
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| Be down
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| That’s one of my shit, an get shot
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| Only the baddest bitches jock
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| Get chosen
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| Global shouts
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| For bitches out there who be voguin
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| On the collar of poppa
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| Brand new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa
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| Where niggas strapped fo real, like Chubacca
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| Who got the gonga
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| Cuz I be high like phone doctor
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| Spark on vodka
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| Eatin lobster, bumpin Frank Sinatra
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| Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who shot ya
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| Like Vinny Blanca
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| Come back in the end juss to haunt ya
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| Plus I twist a Benz like Big Poppa
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| What’s the big proper use
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| Go get yo bread an do what ya gots to be a
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| Millionaire playa
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| Verse 3 *(Yukmouth)*
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| Uh
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| You niggas juss created a monsta
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| Fuck a type, I smoke gonga
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| In the Bahammas
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| Fuckin yo baby mama
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| Doggystyle (whoo, wee!)
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| Two wow, you wow
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| Doubt man
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| Who wow «Bout it, Bout it»
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| Niggas be claimin they be the Ice Cream Man
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| But I doubt it, doubt it
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| Be rowdy
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| Hit the paper chasin clout it
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| Sky up out the ugly four day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot
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| Smokin blunts, an crunchin weed, sex
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| Fresh outta drug rehabs
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| Spend two g’s at every function I be at
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| Believe that, BITCH!
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| Ya mind is Smoke-A-Lot
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| Grab bitches by the throat-a-lot
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| That’s what ya told the cops
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| I hold the Glock
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| Aim it an fire
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| Retire another nigga
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| Nameless
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| Game is fo hire
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| Desire chariots fire
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| Light as I’m a tuck her
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| We’re so called «potnaz», fuck 'em
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| An dust em off wit a choppa, I can’t rush 'em
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| Gotta bust 'em
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| Too skinny I can’t trust 'em
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| An when the mutha fuckaz got meal tickets you might have to love 'em
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| An that’s fo real
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| Nigga
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| Have all this fuckin money, an still ain’t happy. |
| Nigga, still got
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| Problems wit stress, mutha fuckaz juss think you got it made, they try
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| To rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna love you. |
| Fuck
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| Money, I wish I didn’t have it, cuz when I didn’t have it it was all
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| Good, niggas loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an shit at the store
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| Now ya got money everybody wanna kill me, nigga, ya own relatives wanna
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| Do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, make a million bucks
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| Millionaire |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song $ad Millionaire , by - Luniz. Song from the album Lunitik Muzik, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп