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 them 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 Rosco train,
swervin in an lanes,
from O-H-A,
what they away,
eh, though, eh, way,
pistol,
mutha fucka wanna peep.

x2 *(Brownstone & Yukmouth)*

Millionaire!
Dreams of big play.
seen 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,
yo gats 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 bitches 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 like phone doctor,
on vodka,
eatin lobster, Frank Sinatra,
Smoke-A-Lot be the MOBBsta, who ya,
Vinny Blanca,
come in the end juss to haunt ya,
plus I a Benz like Big Poppa,
the big proper use,
go get yo bread an do ya gots to be a,
playa.

x2

3 *(Yukmouth)*

Uh.
You niggaz juss 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",
niggaz be claimin be the Ice Cream Man,
but I it, doubt it,
be rowdy,
hit the chasin clout it,
sky up out the ugly day la-la-by yo Cuttie like a ballot,
blunts, an crunchin weed, sex,
fresh outta 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 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 tickets you might to love 'em,
an fo real.
Nigga.

x5

*(Yukmouth talking chorus)*

Have all this fuckin money, an still ain't happy. Nigga, 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 me when I was juss drinkin brew an shit at the store.
Now ya got money wanna kill me, nigga, ya own relatives wanna
do you, skanless boy, this is Skrillion, make a million bucks.
Millionaire.