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 havin the mutha blues,
like
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 niggaz off my side,
wit to hide body 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 down the block, wit a thirty-eight, an glock,
the is waitin to umm,
on yo vehicle,
run yo vehicle,
even if they have to gun yo vehicle,
nigga, up in high-speedaz,
police they be the Rosco train,
in an outta lanes,
runnin O-H-A,
what they away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
every mutha wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
Ever seen a sad
I thought that make us happy.

2 *(Yukmouth)*

if I was a millionaire,
huh,
a major 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 droppin g bannos on the ground,
be down,
one of my shit, an get shot,
only the bitches jock,
get chosen,
shouts,
for out there who be voguin,
on the of poppa,
brand new dolla billz, an a choppa,
where niggaz fo real, like Chubacca,
who got the gonga,
'cause I be like phone doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, Frank Sinatra,
be the MOBBsta, who shot ya,
like Blanca,
back in the end juss to haunt ya,
plus I twist a Benz Big Poppa,
the big proper use,
go get yo an do what ya gots to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You niggaz created a monsta,
fuck a type, I gonga,
in the Bahammas,
yo baby mama,
(whoo,wee!)
two wow, you wow,
man,
who wow "Bout it, it",
be claimin they be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the chasin clout it,
sky up out the four day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,
smokin blunts, an weed, sex,
fresh outta rehabs,
two g's at every 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,
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)*

all this fuckin money, an still ain't happy. Nigga, still got
problems wit stress, mutha fuckaz think you got it made, they try
to rob you an shit, yo own potnaz in the hood juss wanna you. Fuck
money, I wish I didn't it, 'cause when I didn't have it it was all
good, niggaz me when 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.