Chris Brown - A Milli (remix) (Promo Only clean edit) lyrics

Bangladesh Young Money Ya dig Yeah, Mac, I'm going in A millionaire, I'm a Young Money millionaire Tougher than Nigerian hair My criteria compared to your career, this isn't fair I'm a venereal disease like a menstrual bleed Through the pencil and leak On the sheet of the tablet in my mind 'Cause I don't write sh**, 'cause I ain't got time 'Cause my seconds, minutes, hours go to the almighty dollar And the almighty power of that ch-ch-ch-ch-chopper Sister, brother, son, daughter, father, motherf**a, coppa Got the Maserati dancin' on the bridge, p**y poppin' Tell the coppa's, ha-ha-ha-ha You can't catch 'em, you can't stop 'em I go by them goon rules If you can't beat 'em, then you prop 'em You can't man 'em, then you mop 'em You can't stand 'em, then you drop 'em You pop em, 'cause we pop 'em like Orville Redenbacher Motherf**a, I'm ill...yeah A million here, a million there Sicilian b**h with long hair and coke in her derriere Like smokin' the thinnest air, I open the Lamborghini Hopin' them crackers see me like, "Look at that ba*tard Weezy" He's a beast, he's a dog, he's a motherf**in' problem Okay, you're a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin? Nothin', nothin', you ain't scarin' nothin' On some f*ggot bullsh**, call 'em Dennis Rodman Call me what you want, b**h Call me on my Sidekick Never answer when it's private Damn, I hate a shy b**h Don't you hate a shy b**h? Yeah, I ate a shy b**h And she ain't shy no more, she changed her name to my b**h Ha-ha, yeah, n***a, that's my b**h So when she ask for the money when you through Don't be surprised, b**h It ain't trickin' if you got it But you like a b**h with no a**, you ain't got sh** Motherf**a, I'm ill, not sick And I'm okay, but my watch sick Yeah, my drop sick, yeah, my Glock sick And my knot dick I'm ill Motherf**a, I'm ill...yeah, see They say I'm rappin' like Big, Jay, and 2Pac Andre 3000, where is Erykah Badu at? Who that? Who that say they gonna beat Lil Wayne? My name ain't Bic, but I keep that flame, man Who that wanna do that, boy? Ya knew that true the swallow And I be the sh**, now you got loose bowels I don't owe you like two vowels But I would like you to pay me by the hour, ha-ha And I'd rather be pushin' flowers Than to be in the pen sharin' showers Tony told us this world was ours And the Bible told every girl was sour Don't play in her garden and don't smell her flower Call me Mr. Carter or Mr. Lawn Mower Boy, I got so many b**hes like Mike Lowry Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me Motherf**a, I say life ain't sh** without me Chrome lips pokin' out the coupe, look like it's poutin' I do what I do, and you do what you can do about it b**h, I can turn a crack rock into a mountain, dare me Don't you compare me, 'cause there ain't nobody near me They don't see but they hear me, they don't feel me but they fear me I'm illy C3, 3P