[Meek Mill & Phil Collins] Yeah We in the championship We was down 3-1 Yeah (I can feel it coming in the air tonight) Feel it Champions of the United States (Oh lord) (And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life) Yeah Turn me up Cruz (Oh lord)
[Meek Mill] Bombin' on any of them niggas that want the smoke (Woo) Nigga, this a big boy Phantom, this ain't a Ghost (It ain't) Had to take the way from them niggas and now they toast (Fuck 'em) They ain't have no sympathy for me when I was broke Amen, amen Lord forgive me (Lord forgive me) for all my sins (All my sins) Took so many riches just to get a Benz (Get a Benz) Pray for my niggas (All my niggas), all my friends (Yeah) In the trenches, warring with killas, we been getting it in 32 shots in my new Glock (Yeah) Niggas wanna hit me like I'm 2Pac (Yeah) Bad bitch fuck me in my Gucci tube socks (Yeah) 'Member when I spent my re-up on a oowop, woah Your favorite rapper a mumble rapper Walk up in this bitch, a bunch of killers and humble trappers I can go to Hollywood, to court in this jungle action With niggas that'll smoke you go and murder your brother after Whoa, big dog, nigga, I'm a big dog Streets said they need that dope, they having withdrawals I put on my yellow diamonds when I'm pissed off I'm so rich that I can't even fuck a bitch raw, whoa Do you know the feeling? (Do you?) Being irritated 'cause you gotta count a million All this fucking money, I ain't got no time for chilling We too rich to look like this to all that killing and drug dealing You my nigga, I fuck with you, we gon' thug it out Say it's beef? We going to war, nigga, let's slug it out Big Bad Wolf, we at your door, blood in your fucking house I heard your daddy was a rat, so you a fucking mouse, nigga Pouring champagne 'cause all my niggas dead If they ain't in the graveyard, then they in the feds I give a fuck if that crown heavy, put it on my head Take it to the jeweler, bust it down before I wear it (Yeah) Whew, 'cause I'm a king just Martin Luther (Martin Luther) I ain't a hater, fuck my bitch, nigga, I salute ya (Salute) I be flying jet and chopper like that shit was Uber We finally made it out them trenches nigga, hallelujah, whoa Balling like a hot boy Diamonds dancing on me more than JB Blocboy I'm a boss, I'm the one that call the shots, boy (Shots) You a thottie, I won't cuff you like a cop whore, no way (Like a cop) Ooh, I just cashed out How the fuck you turn a bando to a glass house? How the fuck you get a two to four and bail out? Got your favorite Instagram bitch with her ass out, hey Make her touch her toes, make her touch her toes (Touch it, touch it) Run up like a milli' off a couple shows (Run it up) Trappin' at the Waldorf, we just fuckin' hoes And they lovin' that Chanel, they gon' sell they souls (Yeah) Running through the gutter, I ain't never bowl (Running) You would think this Wheel Of Fortune, how we selling O's (Yeah) Plug just called, he got another load He know I'ma get them sold Leaning off that perc' Young nigga still fucking all the baddest bitches on earth When I'm off in them trenches, I'm a hot boy like Turk Gun shot is itching in that Glock boy, that's work You get popped pussy, no twerk, oh Nigga, we trying to make that money machine break ('Chine break) Shoot up out that van like it's teammate (Teammate) Nigga, we used to trap up out that green gate (Gate) 80s baby, they cooked crack up in my DNA (Oh) Ooh, scary hours Walk outside the lear, they gon' let confetti shower You knew what it was when they let me out it Living like the plug, nigga, I ain't selling powder, now way Big bag, talking Santa Claus Got 3 hoes off that molly ripping panties off Flying private to Dubai, we off the Xanny bars Ooh, scary hours, turn the cameras off, pleaseTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
