Champion Nines - Unrest

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