(Intro: Pusha-T)
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You know what happen when G.O.O.D. Music and MMG get together, right?
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We get that money
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(Hook x2: Pusha-T)
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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(Verse 1: Trae Tha Truth)
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King of the streets, I’m killin on it
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Brand new coupe, no ceiling on it
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Wrist way cold, no feeling on it
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So much ice I’m chilling on it
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New crib, new yacht, put a million on it
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Money stacked up, looking like a building, don’t it?
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32 4 brick, no dealing on it
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Land of the odd, no drilling on it
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Got a Cuban bitch stud like a playboy wife
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The same time with dick, I might play the night
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She like to blow, under the play the mics
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She know the game is over, she don’t play it right
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Never seen the sun but some say I shine
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These jackers talkin, I don’t it mind
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New P90 stay fully loaded
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Come fuck with me and I’mma vervine
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Nigga I’m too real for these hoes
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White alligator ? these doors
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Trunk go up, it don’t close
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Woman on my grip with these foes
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Got morbid flows for my toes
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Had to be the reason why I end up toast
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Probly no shit, don’t list a real
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I’m certified hip, can’t fuck with those
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(Verse 2: Pusha-T)
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This that shit that y’all wanted
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This shit cook up hard, don’t it?
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Y’all gotta beg my pardon on it
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But this shit sound like God don’t it?
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Yuugh, I’m tired, nigga and y’all gotta pay your tithes, nigga
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Call my Phantom the holy ghost, church on chrome wheel tires, nigga
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Pop tags when I’m paranoid, cause the pawn shop was my paradise
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I was dead pop when that powder came for that knot saved in that shoebox
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Blue tops, blue tops, bad bitch in that blue fox
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This big face is in blu-ray and these black diamonds like boondocks
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I restore the feelin’ of when niggas made a killin’
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Hidin’ choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceiling
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And them hoes with angel faces, cryin’ loud with ill intentions
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Just so I can buy them Christians, have ‘em shittin’ on all they bitches, ah!
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(Hook x2: Pusha-T)
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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(Verse 3: Rick Ross)
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I’m haunted by horror stories, wanna-be home owners
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Horrible outcome, a dope boy got one motive
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Cries when he convicted, cried on every visit
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I’m cryin’ sayin’ his name, ride for all my niggas
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Used to fiddle my finger ’til I found me a fortune
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Finger fuck a Ferrari, south of France early morning
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Did drugs with Donatella, Versace my a cappella
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Never see me in Neiman’s, niggas committin’ treason
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Soft loafer preferred, frost, organic herb
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Stay away from the Forbes, if I only could tell you more
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I got this I got that, I got that I got this
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Got a kilo for 20, my choppas say I’m the shit
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(Hook x2: Pusha-T)
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Millions-millions in the ceiling
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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Choppas-choppas in the closet
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(Verse 4: Pusha T)
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This that shit y’all ask for
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Make a nigga mash on the gas, floor
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Two-door, four-door, roll through the hood like task force
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Fast forward?oops! They say they wanna see proof
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My record sales ain’t much as theirs and we still ride the same coupes
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How we still fuck the same hoes, why we still buy the same clothes
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How we both got the same watch, I’m just keepin’ y’all on y’all toes
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Dope boys, gold mine, that price drop and that coke rise
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Then set it over that blue flame then hang it dry like clothesline
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I restore the feelin’ of when niggas made a killin’
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Hidin’ choppas in the closet, half a million in the ceiling
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Got the razor on the counter, Arm & Hammer in the kitchen
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| Just to ke |
