Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Champion Nines , by - Unrest. Song from the album Imperial F.F.R.R., in the genre АльтернативаRelease date: 16.08.1992
Record label: 4AD
Song language: English
Champion Nines |
| 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 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 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, till they wave like tidal |
| ducin' 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 till its 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 CD’s with my name on it |
| Opposite of what the game wanted, motherfucker 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’mma talk my shit, bitch I came into the game as rookie of the year |
| Blake Griffin, Kyrie, Amar’e Stoudemire |
| Yeah and still couple people gotta problem with me at the hater magazine |
| I mean Fader magazine, tell the journalist to suck what’s in my saggin' jeans |
| Choke motherfucker, choke man and my fans will open 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 hype beats hype me |
| Maybe cause I wasn’t a good kid in a M.A.A.D. |
| 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 |
| Nonono |
| No fuck that, fuck maintaining |
| I’m tired of being humble |
| It time to let these industry motherfuckers know, man |
| I wake up and I see four MTV-awards on my dresser that I got this year |
| I roll J’s as long as my fucking shoe on a fucking gold plat |
| 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 |