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Illion
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Too Phat
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1
Verse 1 (Joe Flizzow)
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Yo there's more to life than just credit cards and money
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Now why we ballers sweatin' crazy chasin hunnies?
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You know it's funny but it's all good though
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'cos like everybody else I got a dream to make a million yo
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Now what? You thought we got crazy bank?
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You know I'm sleeping in a tent cos I couldn't afford the rent
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But if I was rich, I'd buy me mad bling blings
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And fat chains that'll make ya neck hurt and platinum ring rings
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Just to get the feeling, nows lets pretend we dealin'
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With big bucks and persian silk rugs and pushin big trucks
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And 4 wheel drives wit' tv screens and mad audio
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Got personal trainers to take care of my cardio
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And Playboy Bunnies to bring me milk and oreos
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A dozen hunnnies in bikinis and parios
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To chill wit' me and my boys at our pool parties
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My make believe crib yo you know be always rowdy
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My neighbour Britney, she complainin' but she just jealoues
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'cos Jenny Lo across the road gets to hang wit' us fellas
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Makin' money makin' money makin' money
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Don't wake me up fool im busy with all these hunnies
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Chorus 2x
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I wanna make a million
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Illegal got a billion
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Yo Joe take a trillion
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Malique got change for a zillion?
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Verse 2 (Malique)
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Well if I had a million you know I'd spend buff fees
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So I can get sicillians and go kidnap puffy
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Haha, takeover Bad Boy and merry Jenny
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Sign Joe, chill with 112 and sip Henny
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This might sound crazy but Imma do a song with Jay Z
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With Dre on the beats and libs by Slimshady
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And do this video you know like really ill, word
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**** a Hype Williams now gimme Steven Spielberg
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And remember one thang, I want all rappers in it
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North, south, east to the west, they all represented
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And bring some R&B dudes too, prolly Usher
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So he can do that nose wrestle scene we planned with Busta
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And at the end we all say, Rest in Peace Big Pun
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Now guess where I'm gon' be at once the videos done
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I'll be in Cuba, frontin' with a new pouch bag
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Wit' the help of James Bond I'll try to bring Tupac back, what.
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Chorus
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Verse 3 (Joe Flizzow)
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If I had mad loot, I'd fill my storeroom wit Tim Boots
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And start my clothing company sellin' see through
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Negligees and brassieres, heck ''d sell thongs wit peacock feathers
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And zebra prints and market my product for sigle grandmothers
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And tell my agent to get hold of the president
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Make an offer can't refuse for his residence
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Then renovate the crib jac'causezi balconies
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Hire Chef Wan to make me cheese and macaroni
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Mad tight security, ain't no papparazzi
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Gon'take shots of me and my boo invade my provacy
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If not I'll buy an island just off South China Sea
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Escape mad city life and let my conscience free
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Under shady palm trees, Kawasaki jet skis
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And sip pineapple juice in peaceful harmony
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So that's my story and dreams ya'll fools don't laugh at me
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'cos one day my fantasies might be reality
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Chorus (4X)
TOO PHAT, ANAK AYAM-FREAK TO THE BEAT
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