Millions - Live from Spotify SXSW 2014
Yeah, yeah
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
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?
Yeah, 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, but the pawn shop was my paradise
I was dead pop when that powder came for that knot saved in that shoe box
Blue tops, blue tops, bad bitch in that blue fox
This big face is in Blu-ray and the 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
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 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 coupés
How we still fuck the same hoes, how 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
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 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?
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
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?
Yeah, 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, but the pawn shop was my paradise
I was dead pop when that powder came for that knot saved in that shoe box
Blue tops, blue tops, bad bitch in that blue fox
This big face is in Blu-ray and the 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
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 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 coupés
How we still fuck the same hoes, how 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
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 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?
Credits
Writer(s): Kanye West, Terrence Thornton, Terius Nash, Mike Dean, Ricardo Lamarre, William Roberts, Joshua Luellen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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