Champions

Hey yo ain't nobody left for us man, shit
Last one standing lace up! Black Flag!
Bad Boy, bitch!
Hey yo, it's lonely at the top
Hey yo Kells, hey yo Kells are you ready?
Hey yo Kells, get these motherfuckers ahh!

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 fuck you gonna hate right now?
Remember my first single?
Chyea well it's doing great right now
Took a five hundred thou out 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 fuckin' with me and if you ain't
Then you outta place right now
Everybody ain't real, everybody can't be us
Everybody stay losin'
That makes us champions
I take that title, 'til they wave like tidal
Tryin' bring the paper in
My paper thin like that Bible
That is how you win
Stackin' Benjamins 'til it's big
As the Eiffel uh

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 Walmart
Bag tryin' make a steal
Straight from burnin' 1 thousand CDs
With my name on it
Opposite of what the game wanted
Muhfucka we just tryin' get a mill
Now the Shaker grad boy signed to the Bad Boy
But I ain't gettin cheesecake
No this ain't Making of the Band homeboy
What is that my bitch? God

Damn she Colombian homeboy?
Ever since I got some bands 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, Kyrie
(who you talkin' 'bout?) Amar'e Stoudemire

Yeah and still couple people gotta problem
With me at hater magazine
I mean Fader magazine
Tell the journalist to suck what's
In my saggin' jeans choke muhfucka, choke
None of my fans opened
Up your fuckin' magazine
Lucky I don't have Jermaine come up in your
Office and load up a fuckin'' magazine
Charlemagne don't like me
What's his name won't fight me
I'm a hype individual, God damn it
Hypebeats hype me

Maybe cause I wasn't a good kid
In a mad city like Kendrick
I was just a little bad motherfucker
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 no, no, no
No fuck that, fuck maintaining
I'm tired of being humble
It time to let these industry muhfuckas know
Man i wake up and I see four MTV awards
On my dresser that I got this year
I'm rollin' up Js as long as my
Fucking shoe on a gold plaque
Lace the fuck up!

Champions! Bad Boy! Lace Up! Black Flag!
Never, never, never give up
We see you at the top, baby
We will be waiting there with a ice
Cold glass of lemonade and Cîroc
And a couple of bad bitches
To massage your feet, cause that's how we do
If you make it, you're welcome champions
Get down or lay down