Millions - Pusha T, Rick Ross

Millions, Millions in the ceiling

Millions, Millions in the ceiling

Millions, Millions in the ceiling

Millions, Millions in the ceiling

Choppers, choppers in the closet

Choppers, choppers in the closet

Choppers, choppers in the closet

Choppers, choppers in the closet

This that shit that ya’ll wanted?

This shit cook up hard don’t it?

Yall gotta beg my pardon on it But this shit sound like God don’t it?

(yeaah)

I’m tired and yall gotta pay your ties

Call my Phantom the Holy Ghost

Church on chrome wheel tires

Pop a tags when I’m paranoid

Cause a pawn shop was my paradise

I was there pop when that powder came

For that not safe in that shoe box,

Blue tops, blue tops, bad bitch in that blue fox

This big face and blue-ray and these black diamonds like boondocks

I restore the feeling of when niggas made a killin'

Hiding choppers in the closet half a million in the ceiling

And them niggas with angel faces cryin’out with I’ll intentions

And just so I can buy them Christians have em fuck it on all their bitches ah!

I’m honored by horror stories, wanna be home owners

Horrible outcome with the boy got one motive

Prize when he conficted, pride on every visit

I’m crying sayin his name, ride for all my niggas

Used to fiddle my fingers, until I found me a fortune

Finger fuckin Ferrari’s, South of France early mornin

Get drunk with Donatello, Versace, my Acapella

Never see me in Neimans, nigga commiting treason

Soft loafer prefered, frost organic herb

Stay away from the forbes of our only can tell you more

I got this I got that

I got that, I got this

Got a kilo for twenty

My niggas say I’m the shit

This that shit ya’ll ask for

Make a nigga on the gas floor

2- door, 4-door, roll through the hood like task force

Fast forward, Oops!

they say they wanna see proof

My record sells aint much as theirs and we still ridin same coupes

How we still fuckin same hoe?

How we still buy the same clothes?

How we both got the same watch?

I’m just keepin ya’ll on your toes

Dope boys, gold mind

That price drop and that Coke rise

Then set it over that blue flame

Then hang to dry like clothes line

I restore the feeling of when niggas made a killin'

Hiding choppers in the closet half a million in the ceiling

Got the razor on the counter Arm-N- Hammer in the kitchen

Just to keep my feet in Christians and keep fuckin all your bitches, aaah!