| Boss Hogg Outlaws, street millionaires
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| You know we getting this street money, shit
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| Whether it’s weed, ki’s or c.d.s
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| Trying to get it with the M-O's
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| Now Slim hit em where it hurt (ha)
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| The trunk open boppers scoping, but don’t watch me
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| I’m shotgun with Sleepy, watching eight TV’s
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| Right behind that Chi-Town, and we headed to Cali
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| Popping candy blue do’s, on a thoed Denali
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| Riding like we in a rally, candy coats crawl spokes
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| Live like rich white folks, and float million dolla boats
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| I spend six hundred c-notes, to decorate my throat
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| And got a mansion house snow, with the dope to smoke
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| Whole lifetime from being broke, my grand kids gon ball
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| I bought a car by the bar, and still knock down the mall
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| A young Hogg is what I’m called, when I step in the place
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| Cause when I step up in the place, my diamonds up in your face
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| Staying on a paper chase, so I’m shaking the leaves
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| I proceed to block bleed, cause getting green is what I need
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| The Re-Rolex Times, and sip the moet wine
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| Boss Hogg boys blind, when it’s time to shine ha
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| We read Rolex Times, and sip the moet wine
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| Not a Cash Money brother, but I know how to shine
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| Start up my rhymes, and now my diamonds glare
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| I’m a self made, full paid street millionaire
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| I ain’t never been a roach, on a leash or side kick
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| Like these other bitch niggas that’s broke, and ride dick
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| How the fuck you boys only sell dope, to buy kicks
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| No wonder how I glow, and hop out the fly six
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| I’m a street millionaire, cause I mash the gas
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| And watch you other boys flash, how I stash my cash
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| I’m known for wrecking boys face, mash they ass in half
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| When I pull up in the drop top, Jag on glass
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| I’m on my note, princess cuts on my throat
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| Plus you can tell by the soft mink, on my coat
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| And watch you boys on the block, I’m on the boat
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| Getting head from a red, that give the longest strokes
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| I keeps it real, I’m all about eating meals
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| I don’t hang with nan nigga, that ain’t seeking mills
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| Till he’s on the pay roll, and they keep a steal
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| I make a call, boys getting hit with heat then chill, for real
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| Now we balling in the Bentley, big bodies and Benzes
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| The way my twenties spin, they go clean to the dentist
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| 'Fore my son turn one, I hang with 2001's
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| Eddie Bauer car seats, so me and him can have fun
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| Talking stocks and bonds, public seeing my dones
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| Super charged Impala, pop my collar like the Fonz'
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| Ten karats on my teeth, then the karats on my charm
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| Add the karats on my arm, that’s more than a rabbit farm
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| I got Phat Farm, but I don’t need a outfit
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| Talking bout the Texas rent, cost two point six
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| Street rich four point six, Range Rover for winter
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| In the summer catch me gunning, platinum leather on the list
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| Chrome on Bentley and the Benz, sick my light on the mirror
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| For the wife birthday, two thousand at the galleria
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| If my diamonds were more clear, I’d line the palaya
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| Now it’s time to thank us, for buying Texas a stadium |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Street Millionaire, artist - Slim Thug. Album song Boss Hogg Outlaws, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп