Luniz - 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***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.