Warner Chappell Music - A Milli lyrics

[Produced by Bangladesh] [Intro] Young Money! You dig? Mack, I'm going in [Verse 1] A millionaire, I'm a Young Money millionaire Tougher than Nigerian hair My criteria compared to your career just isn't fair I'm a venereal disease, like a menstrual, bleed Through the pencil, I 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-cha-cha-chopper Sister, brother, son, daughter, father; mother-f** a copper Got the Maserati dancing on the bridge, p**y poppin' Tell the coppers: "Ha-ha-ha-ha You can't catch him, you can't stop him" I go by them goon rules, if you can't beat 'em then you pop '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 [Hook] Motherf**er, I'm ill [Verse 2] A million here a million there Sicilian b**h with long hair, with coke in her derriere Like smoke in 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 mothaf**in' problem Okay, you're a goon, but what's a goon to a goblin? Nothin', nothin', you ain't scaring 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 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**er, I'm ill; not sick And I'm okay, but my watch sick, yeah, my drop sick Yeah, my Glock sick, and my knot thick; I'm it [Hook] Motherf**er, I'm ill [Verse 3] They say I'm rappin' like B.I.G., Jay, and 2Pac André 3000, where is Erykah Badu at? Who that? Who that said they gon' beat Lil Wayne? My name ain't Bic, but I keep that flame, man Who that one that do that, boy? You knew that, true that, swallow And I be the sh**, now you got loose bowels I don't owe you like two vowels But I would like for you to pay me by the hour And I'd rather be pushing flowers Than to be in the pen sharing showers Tony told us this world was ours And the Bible told us 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 I'm Mike Lowrey Even Gwen Stefani said she couldn't doubt me Motherf**er, I say: "Life ain't sh** without me." Chrome lips poking out the coupe, look like it's pouting 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 me but they hear me They don't feel me, but they fear me; I'm illy, C3, 3 Peat