Can I do my thang??
*(Yukmouth)*
Speak on it.
*(Brownstone)*
Oh, oh, ohhh.
Oh, oh, ohh, hey.
Verse 1 *(Yukmouth)*
Uh.
n***az be havin the mutha f**kin 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***az 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***a, 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 f**ka 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,
'cause n***az slangin all my rocks,
point yo gats at me,
I don't know where uzis to yo knot,
fo f**kin wit the big shot,
I was juss flat droppin g bannos on the ground,
be down,
that's one of my sh**, an get shot,
only the baddest b**hes jock,
get chosen,
global shouts,
for b**hes out there who be voguin,
on the collar of poppa,
brand new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa,
where n***az strapped fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
'cause 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***az juss created a monsta,
f**k a type, I smoke gonga,
in the Bahammas,
f**kin yo baby mama,
doggystyle (whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
doubt man,
who wow "Bout it, Bout it",
n***az 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, s**,
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**hes by the throat-a-lot,
that's what ya told the cops,
I hold the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire another n***a,
nameless,
game is fo hire,
desire chariots fire,
light as I'm a tuck her,
we're so called "potnaz", f**k '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**kaz got meal tickets you might have to love 'em,
an that's fo real.
n***a.
Chorus x5
*(Yukmouth talking during chorus)*
Have all this f**kin money, an still ain't happy. n***a, still got
problems wit stress, mutha f**kaz juss think you got it made, they try
to rob you an sh**, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna love you. F**k
money, I wish I didn't have it, 'cause when I didn't have it it was all
good, n***az loved me when I was juss drinkin brew an sh** at the store.
Now ya got money everybody wanna k** me, n***a, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, make a million bucks.
Millionaire.