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,
5-0-5's
I lie,
homicide,
will cry,
pray for me 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 nothin to hide die rot,
on porch,
I expectin some sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
lets begin down the situation,
when, the end of our frustration,
so while we racin the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the cops is to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
if they have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
police they be the Rosco train,
in an outta lanes,
runnin O-H-A,
they throw away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
every fucka wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

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

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a playa on the block,
a mac daddy, drivin a black Caddy couldn't stop,
hella happy,
'cause niggaz all my rocks,
point yo at me,
I know where uzis to yo knot,
fo wit the big shot,
I was juss flat g bannos on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the baddest jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for out there who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
brand new dolla billz, an a choppa,
where strapped fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
I be high like phone doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, Frank Sinatra,
be the MOBBsta, who shot ya,
like Blanca,
come back in the end to haunt ya,
I twist a Benz like Big Poppa,
what's the big use,
go get yo bread an do ya gots 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 it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the paper clout it,
sky up out the ugly day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,
smokin blunts, an weed, sex,
fresh drug rehabs,
spend two g's at every I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
bitches by the throat-a-lot,
that's what ya the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
retire nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
light as I'm a her,
we're so "potnaz", fuck 'em,
an dust em off wit a choppa, I rush 'em,
gotta 'em,
too skinny I can't 'em,
an when the mutha got meal tickets you might have to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth talking chorus)*

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