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millionaire shit - young dolph lyrics

[intro]
(life music)
yeah
what’s happenin’?
young dolph
look

[verse]
lil’ mama say she sick of me
but guess what? i don’t care, b*tch
young dolph a made n*gga, i’m on some millionaire sh*t (for real)
young dolph a paid n*gga, and i can have every b*tch
countin’ all this guap got a n*gga actin’ like this
hittin’ the trap, [?] with these freaks, i’m a dog
and the sh*t i’m smokin’ on the same color as kermit the frog (yeah)
rappin’*ass n*ggas, they ain’t doin’ sh*t but rappin’ (rappin’)
thirty thousand cash on me, yeah, that’s good trappin’ (yeah, yeah)
a hundred round drum in case i have a little static
uh, real gangster sh*t, gonna let the world have it
gucci boot, gucci hat, gucci belt around my hip (yup)
sellin zip’s, same color as thе grape street crips (what up?)
birthday comin’ up, and i’m thinkin’ for a whip
wait, but f*ck that, i’ma flip ’til i get this f*ckin’ mill’ (f*ckin’ mill’)
twelfth gradе breakin’ down bails on the real (ayy)
i’ve been guaped up, i ain’t lookin’ for a deal (d*mn)
your girl all up in my face, she better come and get up
before i make your b*tch forget that she got a n*gga
young dolph sell more flavors than gatorade
i done dismissed more b*tches than flavor flav
in and outta town, say, i can’t stay still
i got a bad b*tch in every city i go to chill (for real)
countin’ money and go shoppin’, that’s all you like to do? (d*mn, chill)
i might as well shorty, i ain’t nothin’ but twenty*two
could you know that i’ve been havin’ money
they can’t do sh*t with it
nowhere else to hide, so i might as well spend it (f*ck)
that lil’ n*gga your girl call as soon as you leave home (i’m on the way)
i pound that sh*t, don’t burn, and run your ten g’s strong
my footwork exclusive, and my smoke sack fruity (fruity)
f*ck a bank account, n*gga, my stash spot stupid
if you ain’t givin’ head, then my number, you can loose it
say you got the firest, then come to my spot and prove it
let me see you do it, h*ll yeah, b*tch, i’m c*cky
fresh to death, slim n*gga, pockets real stocky
this one right here, thug, the skrilla squad fam (d*mn)
young dolph, paper route, boy, who i am
smoke a hundred dollar blunt, stuffed with three or four gram
thousand dollar straps on deck, they don’t jam
and i don’t g*ngb*ng, all i do is count change
stash checks on your head for any n*gga, speak my name

- young dolph lyrics

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