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