Champions Lyrics (ft. Puff Daddy)

All of y'all better wake up now
Everyone's a little late right now
Keep it real, I'm a little hot
How the f*ck you gonna hate right now?
Remember my first single?
Chyea well it's doing great right now
Took a 5 hundred though off the gate
Straight to the bank right now
Shit gets wicked in my city so I got a semi in a race right now
Everybody f*ckin with me and if you ain't then you outta plave right now
Everybody ain't real, everybody can't be us
Everybody stay losin, that makes us champions
I take that little, till they wave like that title
Introducin' me to Billy Jean, shit I'll take that Michael
Tryin bring the paper in, my paper thin like that Bible
That is how you win stackin Benjamins till its big as the Eiffel

We are the champions my friends
And we'll keep on fighting till the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions of the world.

I came straight from sellin nickel bags
Out my baby mama pad just to get a meal
Straight from puttin similac in a raw mile bag tryin make a steal
Straight from I thousand CD's with my name on it
Opposite of what the game wanted, Mof*cka we just tryin' get a meal
Not a shaker grad boy, signed to the bad boy
I ain't gettin cheese cake no bits and make another band homebody
What is that my bitch? God damn she columbian homeboy?
Ever since I got some fans homeboy haters tryin' be my friends homeboy
Pull up in that tour bus everybody know what's going on in there
Backroom lotta panties droppin lotta pretty bitches pretty long hair
I'ma talk my shit, bitch I came into the game as rookie of the year
Blake griffin, Kyree, Amaree Stoudemire
Yeah and still couple people gotta problem with me at the hater magazine
I mean fader magazine, tell the journalist to suck my simma sack of jeans
Chocke mof*cka, chocke man and my fans will knock on your f*ckin magazine
Lucky I don't have Jermaine come up in your office and load up a f*ckin magazine
Chalemagne don't like me, what's his name won't fight me
I'm a hype individual god damni hype lives 'hind me
Maybe 'cause I wasn't a good kid in a maad city like Kendrick
I was just a little bad mof*cka beggin landlords to be tenant
Beggin everyone to give my song a listen, tryin' get up out a shitty job position
Tryin' get a 24 karat gold toilet 'cause I never had a pot to piss in
But it's Ok I'm still maintaining, nanana.

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Songwriter(s): Richard Baker, Lisa Germaine Gerrard, Damon J. Blackman, Earl Simmons, Klaus Badelt
Publisher(s): For Casie Publishing LLC, Dead Game Publishing, Boomer X Publishing Inc., Usi A Music Publishing, Skg Songs

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