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 that I die,
suicide,
I try,
fly,
drive-by,
let it slide, do or die,
you an I, by,
catch niggaz off my side,
wit nothin to hide die rot,
on porch,
when I some sort of drive-by,
retaliation,
under I lace, MOBBulation,
begin breakin 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,
even if have to gun down yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
police they be the Bico train,
in an outta 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 thought money make us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a playa on the block,
that a mac daddy, drivin a black couldn't stop,
strap happy,
'cause niggaz all my rocks,
point yo at me,
I don't know where 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 bitches jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for bitches out who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
new hundred dolla billz, an a choppa,
where strapped fo real, like 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 in the end juss to haunt ya,
plus I twist a Benz Big Poppa,
the big proper use,
go get yo bread an do what ya to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You niggaz juss 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 they be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the paper clout it,
sky up out the four day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,
blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh outta rehabs,
spend two g's at function I be at,
that, BITCH!!
Ya is Smoke-A-Lot,
grab by the throat-a-lot,
what ya told the cops,
I the glock,
aim it an fire,
another nigga,
nameless,
is fo hire,
desire fire,
as I'm a tuck her,
we're so called "potnaz", 'em,
an em off wit a choppa, I can't rush 'em,
gotta 'em,
too skinny I trust 'em,
an the mutha fuckaz got meal tickets you might have to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth talking chorus)*

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