Meek Mill – Intro (Lyrics | Video)

Lyrics “Intro” by Meek Mill

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)

Bombin’ on any of them n**gas that want the smoke
N**ga, this a big boy Phantom, this ain’t a Ghost
Had to take the way from them n**gas and now they toast
They ain’t have no sympathy for me when I was broke
Amen, amen

Lord forgive me for all my sins
Took so many riches just to get a Benz
Pray for my n**gas, all my friends
In the trenches, warring with killas, we been getting it in
32 shots in my new Glock
N**gas wanna hit me like I’m 2Pac
Bad b**ch f**k me in my Gucci tube socks
‘Member when I spent my re-up on a oowop, woah

Your favorite rapper a mumble rapper
Walk up in this b**ch, a bunch of killers and humble trappers
I can go to Hollywood, to court in this jungle action
With n**gas that’ll smoke you go and murder your brother after

Whoa, big dog, n**ga, 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 f**k a b**ch raw, whoa

Do you know the feeling
Being irritated ’cause you gotta count a million
All this f**king 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 n**ga, I f**k with you, we gon’ thug it out
Say it’s beef We going to war, n**ga, let’s slug it out
Big Bad Wolf, we at your door, blood in your f**king house
I heard your daddy was a rat, so you a f**king mouse, n**ga

Pouring champagne ’cause all my n**gas dead
If they ain’t in the graveyard, then they in the feds
I give a f**k if that crown heavy, put it on my head
Take it to the jeweler, bust it down before I wear it
Whew, ’cause I’m a king just Martin Luther
I ain’t a hater, f**k my b**ch, n**ga, I salute ya
I be flying jet and chopper like that s**t was Uber
We finally made it out them trenches n**ga, 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
You a thottie, I won’t cuff you like a cop whore, no way
Ooh, I just cashed out
How the f**k you turn a bando to a glass house
How the f**k you get a two to four and bail out
Got your favorite Instagram b**ch with her ass out, hey

Make her touch her toes, make her touch her toes
Run up like a milli’ off a couple shows
Trappin’ at the Waldorf, we just f**kin’ h*es
And they lovin’ that Chanel, they gon’ sell they souls

Running through the gutter, I ain’t never bowl
You would think this Wheel Of Fortune, how we selling O’s
Plug just called, he got another load
He know I’ma get them sold

Leaning off that perc’
Young n**ga still f**king all the baddest b**ches 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 p**sy, no twerk, oh
N**ga, we trying to make that money machine break
Shoot up out that van like it’s teammate
N**ga, we used to trap up out that green gate
80s baby, they cooked crack up in my DNA

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, n**ga, I ain’t selling powder, now way

Big bag, talking Santa Claus
Got 3 h*es off that molly ripping panties off
Flying private to Dubai, we off the Xanny bars
Ooh, scary hours, turn the cameras off, please…

➤ Written by Papamitrou & Meek Mill
Mix: Young Guru
Master: Colin Leonard
Album: Championships
Produced by Papamitrou
Meek Mill 2018

Championships, Meek Mill, on music store

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