Millionaire Shit

[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, bitch Young Dolph a made nigga, I'm on some millionaire shit (For real) Young Dolph a paid nigga, and I can have every bitch Countin' all this guap got a nigga actin' like this Hittin' the trap, [?] with these freaks, I'm a dog And the shit I'm smokin' on the same color as Kermit the frog (Yeah) Rappin'-ass niggas, they ain't doin' shit 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 shit, 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 fuck that, I'ma flip 'til I get this fuckin' mill' (Fuckin' mill') Twelfth gradе breakin' down bails on the real (Ayy) I've been guaped up, I ain't lookin' for a deal (Damn) Your girl all up in my face, she better come and get up Before I make your bitch forget that she got a nigga Young Dolph sell more flavors than Gatorade I done dismissed more bitches than Flavor Flav In and outta town, say, I can't stay still I got a bad bitch in every city I go to chill (For real) Countin' money and go shoppin', that's all you like to do? (Damn, 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 shit with it Nowhere else to hide, so I might as well spend it (Fuck) That lil' nigga your girl call as soon as you leave home (I'm on the way) I pound that shit, don't burn, and run your ten G's strong My footwork exclusive, and my smoke sack fruity (Fruity) Fuck a bank account, nigga, 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, hell yeah, bitch, I'm cocky Fresh to death, slim nigga, pockets real stocky This one right here, thug, the Skrilla Squad Fam (Damn) 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 gangbang, all I do is count change Stash checks on your head for any nigga, speak my name