"Champions" lyrics

[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!

[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

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 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!

[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