Lyrics Champagne Tiers - CrimeApple, RLX

Champagne Tiers

Woah
Are you not feeling okay?
Do you suffer from frequent bouts triggered by the accomplishments of others?
Or drinking too much champagne?
(Haa!)
If you answered «Yes» to any of these questions, chances are you’re a loser
and/or a bum (A fucking bum!)
Broke miserable ass motherfuckers
That should be me (Y'all sick)
It’s fucking gross
We not boutta act like I’m not me, man
Y’all sick (Woah!)
Medallo
I need a thousand, not a
My () put the
Hide the powder in my socks, power in my thoughts
Provide a plan
Fiend hit me like, «I need grams»
Understand, we gon' fold you lik a chinese fan
tryna make my mind
I send th waves, day to day hustle for night stands
Getting paid, sun beaming on the side of my face
Shorty tryna take me out of my space, I’d rather escape
I’m running laps around you like I came to practice late
Move the package out of, to they gravitate
It’s a thousand ways to spin it, but only one
(Only one, only one, only one…)
Motherfuckers is lame, man
I know I can’t be the only one (Fuck, shit!)
A fool cut in
With a bitch look like and got the waist of a horse
You know, competition of mine you just wine, go crush the grapes of remorse
You know I always step to the plate steaks with the sauce
on me is a mystery, nah, don’t get lost
You can’t write this chapter of history without my name at the front of your
thoughts
I got more and plenty to celebrate but it cost (Toma!)
Dawg, this blood on my hands it doesn’t come off (Toma!)
So I pop the cork to commemorate these thoughts that I made commas off (Click)
Somebody do more than talk, they find a corpse tomahawk (Woah)
It was more, I used to have a in my side drawer, that was painful
When it’s people you love and used to look up to coming to pay you
But I kept the grat view, pay dues, remain dedicated and faithful
I had a breakthrough, now these
And then it’s the people who talk and hate for all of the things you went
through
Let that happen,
handshakes and funny faces I see you making
At first I ain’t know what to make of it
This must be anguish
Bring the of Moët and a couple of Aces
I tested positive for hatred (Damn)
Woah (Damn)
Woah (Nasty motherfuckers)
Salud
Pica pica pa' los que hablan mucho!
los envidiosos
Quieto!
Que aquí hay pa' rato…
¿Que no quiere caldo?
Se le dan dos tazas
Es que no te quieren ver en Londres tomando champaña
Les duele, les duele…
What’s the problem?
You look different?
You sound different?
, too fucking bad
Listen to this guy
Mátalos, ¡mátalos con más éxitos!
No me den candela, no me tiren sal
No me prendan velas, no voy a cambiar…