corrija a letra Letra Millions (Live from Spotify SXSW 2014) por Pusha T

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Letra

You know what happen when G.O.O.D. Music and MMG get together, right?
We get that money

Millions-millions in the ceiling, millions-millions in the ceiling
Millions-millions in the ceiling, millions-millions in the ceiling
Choppas-choppas in the closet, choppas-choppas in the closet
Choppas-choppas in the closet, choppas-choppas in the closet
Millions-millions in the ceiling, millions-millions in the ceiling
Millions-millions in the ceiling, millions-millions in the ceiling
Choppas-choppas in the closet, choppas-choppas in the closet
Choppas-choppas in the closet, choppas-choppas in the closet

This that sh*t that y'all wanted
This sh*t cook up hard, don't it?
Y'all gotta beg my pardon on it
But this sh*t sound likе God don't it?
Yuugh, I'm tired, n***a
And y'all gotta pay your tithes, n***a
Call my Phantom the holy ghost
Church on chromе wheel tires, n***a
Pop tags when I'm paranoid
'Cause the pawn shop was my paradise
I was dead pop when that powder came
For that knot saved in that shoebox
Blue tops, blue tops, bad b*t*h in that blue fox
This big face is in Blu-Ray
And these black diamonds like Boondocks

I restore the feelin' of when n***as made a killin'
Hidin' choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceiling
And them hoes with angel faces, cryin' loud with ill intentions
Just so I can buy them Christians
Have 'em sh*ttin' on all they b*t*hes, ah!

This that sh*t y'all ask for
Make a n***a mash on the gas, floor
Two-door, four-door
Roll through the hood like task force
Fast forward–oops! They say they wanna see proof
My record sales ain't much as theirs
And we still ride the same coupes
How we still f**k the same hoes
Why we still buy the same clothes
How we both got the same watch
I'm just keepin' y'all on y'all toes
Dope boys, gold mine
That price drop and that coke rise
Then set it over that blue flame
Then hang it dry like clothesline

I restore the feelin' of when n***as made a killin'
Hidin' choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceiling
Got the razor on the counter, Arm & Hammer in the kitchen
Just to keep my feet in Christians and keep f**kin' all y'all b*t*hes

This that sh*t that y'all wanted
This sh*t cook up hard, don't it?
Y'all gotta beg my pardon on it
But this sh*t sound like God don't it?

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