Champions

[Intro: Diddy] 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! [Verse 1: Machine Gun Kelly] 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 Introducin' me to Billie 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 'til it's big as the Eiffel Uh [Hook] 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 [Verse 2: Machine Gun Kelly] 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! [Outro: Diddy] 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