Pusha T - Millz n da ceilin' lyrics
[Pusha T - Millz n da ceilin' lyrics]
You know what happen when GOOD
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
This that shit that y'all wanted
This shit cook up hard, don't it?
Y'all gotta beg my pardon on it
But this shit sound like God don't it?
Yuugh, I'm tired, nigga and y'all
Gotta pay your tithes, nigga
Call my Phantom the holy ghost
Church on chrome wheel tires, nigga
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 bitch in that blue fox
This big face is in blu ray
And these black diamonds like boondocks
I restore the feelin' of when
Niggas 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 shittin' on all they bitches, ah!
I'm haunted by horror stories
Wanna-be home owners
Horrible outcome, a dope boy got one motive
Cries when he convicted, cried on every visit
I'm cryin' sayin' his name
Ride for all my niggas
Used to fiddle my finger 'til
I found me a fortune finger fuck a Ferrari
South of France early morning
Did drugs with Donatella
Versace my a cappella
Never see me in Neiman's
Niggas committin' treason
Soft loafer preferred, frost, organic herb
Stay away from the Forbes
If I only could tell you more
I got this I got that, I got that I got this
Got a kilo for 20
My choppas say I'm the shit
This that shit y'all ask for
Make a nigga 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 fuck 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
Niggas 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 fuckin' all y'all bitches
This that shit that ya'll wanted
This shit sound like God don't it
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
This that shit that y'all wanted
This shit cook up hard, don't it?
Y'all gotta beg my pardon on it
But this shit sound like God don't it?
Yuugh, I'm tired, nigga and y'all
Gotta pay your tithes, nigga
Call my Phantom the holy ghost
Church on chrome wheel tires, nigga
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 bitch in that blue fox
This big face is in blu ray
And these black diamonds like boondocks
I restore the feelin' of when
Niggas 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 shittin' on all they bitches, ah!
I'm haunted by horror stories
Wanna-be home owners
Horrible outcome, a dope boy got one motive
Cries when he convicted, cried on every visit
I'm cryin' sayin' his name
Ride for all my niggas
Used to fiddle my finger 'til
I found me a fortune finger fuck a Ferrari
South of France early morning
Did drugs with Donatella
Versace my a cappella
Never see me in Neiman's
Niggas committin' treason
Soft loafer preferred, frost, organic herb
Stay away from the Forbes
If I only could tell you more
I got this I got that, I got that I got this
Got a kilo for 20
My choppas say I'm the shit
This that shit y'all ask for
Make a nigga 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 fuck 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
Niggas 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 fuckin' all y'all bitches
This that shit that ya'll wanted
This shit sound like God don't it