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"Million" lyrics by YG
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"Million"


[Hook:]
Said I'm ridin' in that Porsche, mind on a million
My girlfriend trippin', so fuck how she feelin'
'Cause she don't wear no ring, so she don't mean shit
I got more money than her, so she don't mean shit
Said I'm ridin' in that Porsche, mind on a million
My girlfriend trippin', so fuck how she feelin'
'Cause she don't wear no ring, so she don't mean shit
I got more money than her, so she don't mean shit

[Verse 1:]
Said I'm ridin' in that Porsche, mind on a million
My girlfriend trippin', so fuck how she feelin'
She think I'm worth a million so her panties get to peelin'
I stop and get some condoms, so I won't have no children
Legs up in the back seat, booty in the back seat
The way a nigga ballin' you would think I was an athlete
Mustard in that Benzo, I'm up in that Porsche, though
Youse a bad bitch, why you actin' like a whore, though?
Lean by the quart load - 16 OZs
Mind on a million, bitch, fuck you call me?
All my homies bangers, pistols ain't no strangers
Pistols ain't no strangers, and pistols can't taint us
Ratchets in the lobby, that's my type of party
We buy or sell gangsters, my clique don't need nobody
Rich niggas eat out, pussy niggas Mia
Fuck it then I beast now, like peace out

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
I'm riding in that Porsche, mind on some money
Niggas act funny, start makin' money
Pussy make that label, all my niggas able
Pull lil' bro and some killers on the payroll
All my niggas a-holes, act like we don't give a fuck
I bet that shorty hit 'em up...
I had to switch it up, now I live it up
I live it Hollywood, we at my house thick as fuck
Pussy don't do shit for me, it's just a nut
No homo, I can do that with my hand, bitch, what?
Bitch I think I'm Tupac, bitch I think I'm Tupac
Niggas talk that shit 'til they get their ass popped
Mamas wanna fuck me, their daughters wanna fuck me
Thee bitches think I'm ratchet and the niggas say I'm lucky
More racks on, couple racks gone
Double racks gone, that's 20 racks gone

[Hook]

[Bridge:]
I be ridin'
My niggas we be ridin'
Our pitchers do the fighting
So you don't wanna rise, no
Our money gets on
Ciroc and Patron
Havin' bad bitches come up out they thongs
One rack gone, double racks gone
Couple racks gone, that's 20 racks gone

[Hook]

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