Champions

Let's go [Verse 1: Chuck Inglish] Yea, for real? Like, what the hell is this? Girl's moms wish they daughters would have met me first She like, it's no problem but chuck you ain't liver She dig pro ball players, love what they drivin' High class lex coupes beamer benz hybrids Girl it ain't the car it's the nigga that's drivin' And if it ain't American then I can't even drive it Windows way down let that engine start pipin' Rumblin', drop the frame touch down jugglin' The ball: won't drop it or fumble it though Dolphin skin greys white strings in the lace air elevens Cold case when we was in eleventh grade Don't let me hear you say that chuck ain't dope (nope) Cause if you did you'd be tellin' a joke Now that's funny bro And I'm laughin' all the way to the bank Bank shot off the glass, peep my no-look pass Like [Hook x2: Sir Michael Rocks] We on net, field goal match point (match point) Touchdown bet a pound flip a coin (flip a coin) We champions, baby, where my trophy at? We got handles baby, don't reach [Verse 2: Sir Michael Rocks] You can see 'em both talking, both walkin' at the same pace Both heels clickin' like they runnin' in the same race Same clothes, same face, 20-carat ankle bracelet Little flicker is a-wrapped her ankle (bing) Baby blue infinity truck In the baby blue carolina sweatsuit, ten and a half Goin' half on her baby was a part of her plan These wannabe baby mommas tryin to offer their hand They wanna beat box model be in actin' classes Drink c-rock bottles out a couple of glasses They assets was they asses they upset Often askin' where the bathroom at? And cash rules everything around my set '92 corvette the off color floor set Hilfiger jacket zipped to the bottom of my neck Now pass me a swish like the bottom of the net [Hook x2]