Luyện nghe bài hát Sad Millionaire

Can I do my

*(Yukmouth)*

on it.

*(Brownstone)*

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

1 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
Niggaz be the mutha fuckin blues,
like
I lie,
homicide,
gram cry,
for me that I won't die,
suicide,
I try,
fly,
drive-by,
let it slide, do or die,
you an I, by,
catch them off my side,
wit to hide body die rot,
on porch,
when I expectin sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
lets breakin down the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,
so while we racin the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the is waitin to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
if they have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
they be the Rosco Bico train,
swervin in an lanes,
runnin O-H-A,
they throw away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
every mutha wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
Ever a sad millionaire?
I that money make us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a major on the block,
that a mac daddy, drivin a black Caddy stop,
strap happy,
'cause slangin all my rocks,
point yo at me,
I know where uzis to yo knot,
fo wit the big shot,
I was juss flat droppin g on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the baddest jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for bitches out who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa,
where niggaz strapped fo real, Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
'cause I be high phone doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, bumpin Sinatra,
Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who ya,
Vinny Blanca,
come back in the end to haunt ya,
plus I a Benz like Big Poppa,
what's the big use,
go get yo bread an do what ya to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You juss created a monsta,
a type, I smoke gonga,
in the Bahammas,
fuckin yo mama,
(whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
man,
who wow "Bout it, it",
niggaz be claimin be the Ice Cream Man,
but I doubt it, it,
be rowdy,
hit the paper clout it,
sky up out the ugly four day la-la-by yo like a ballot,
blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh drug rehabs,
two g's at every function I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
bitches by the throat-a-lot,
that's ya told the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
as I'm a tuck her,
we're so "potnaz", fuck 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I rush 'em,
bust 'em,
too I can't trust 'em,
an when the mutha fuckaz got meal you might have to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth during chorus)*

Have all fuckin money, an still ain't happy. Nigga, still got
problems wit stress, mutha fuckaz juss think you got it made, try
to rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna you. Fuck
money, I wish I didn't have it, when I didn't have it it was all
good, niggaz loved me when I was drinkin brew an shit at the store.
Now ya got everybody wanna kill me, nigga, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Nine Skrillion, a million bucks.
Millionaire.