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lirik lagu champions – droopyd

[intro: wbc gear & droopyd]
hung hung hung hung
hahaha
ight, here we go

[verse 1: droopyd]
i got them coppas on me, choppas on me
running sh*t no al capone
i see people acting phony
pretty boy got actress on me
extended clip like macaroni
always been a problem kid
never rock no counterfeit
but all my clothes designer fit

[verse 2: wbc gear & droopyd]
i made 10 racks on ether (racks)
while you watched from the bleachers
water boys up at weaver (weaver)
f*ck them dudes who say sneaker (sneaker)
know i’m sharper than a cleaver
f*cked your b*tch, gotta leave her
it was only for my leisure
camry loud, blew the speakers
ain’t rapped in a minute now
hopped on the beat just to tear it down
when i’m at the show know i’m in the crowd
we were on your block saw you getting down (bow, bow, grrt)
you know i’m winning
it’s a nice day on your block until we come and spin it (hung hung hung hung)
can’t find my limit
i’mma keep spending until all my money diminished
[verse 3: droopyd & wbc gear]
big gun, big drum, bruce lee, kick back, kick drum
better get down, gon’ get some, got a man down, ‘nother victim
s.o.s. the way i’m fresh to death, i’m balling every step
i represent them people in the depths, an o.g. in the flesh (in the flesh)
wake up in the morning asking “who gon’ die today?”
i be shooting like the magic, go go gadget, let it spray
b*tch, i’m hot now
i’m not gon’ calm down
i might go rob a*rob a bank and leave the compound, ayy (hahaha, wait that’s kinda mean, huh?)
semi*automatic, i’mma spray when i’ve had enough (hahahaha)
put the scope in laser*beam and that’s gon’ make it accurate (hahahaha, accurate)
pass the cup, that’s what’s up
cracking bowls like cap’n crunch (huh, huh?)
all these b*tches wanna f*ck but i will never hit ‘em up (nah, nah, woo!)
see the cops, we shoot ‘em down
we got beef, we in ‘n out (hahahaha)
i don’t care what they about i need more [?] my bank account
smoke them out like backwoods
knock them down like dominoes
send them to the guillotine
we flee the scene like vamenos (bye*bye)
ya focked it laddy hahaha

[verse 4: wbc gear & droopyd]
signer fit, signer shoes, big sticks, big tools
never stick to the rules, honda fit ain’t cool (ayy, ayy, ayy)
‘less the doors past the roof
can’t rhyme well in the booth
no lies only truth, fat par raise the roof
(it’s 5:30am, hahaha, woo!)
it’s real when i write it, got power like biden
you know how i’m striding, whatever that means
who cares if it rhymes, ‘long as it’s clean
pull up at night, pull up at dawn
know it’s on sight, i’ll get you gone
pie on my plate from papa john’s
like i’m lil uzi, money so long
can’t drive the coupe, ’cause i got no license
you wanna be me, biting like tyson
you wanna see me? highest of prices
new lamborghini, lowest of mileage
mr. krabs, hide the body, ayy
two milli’ on bugatti, ayy
ride the beat like ducati, ayy
mob boss, john gotti (ayy, ayy, ayy)
[chorus: droopyd & wbc gear]
stop this sh*t there ain’t no need for discussions
i am a head of the game ain’t talking ‘cussion
i built this sh*t right up from scratch just like construction
this sh*t’s too hot like volcanic eruption

[verse 5: droopyd]
got them big racks, big stacks
counting them big cheques, make that
got blue hundreds and maybachs
i run this game, no race track
i’m on the top
and you’re on the bottom (you’re on the bottom)
i soak up all this drip like i’m from bikini bottom (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

[outro: wbc gear]
w.b.c.!

- droopyd

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