World Champ
Yeah
Put the cucumber in the vodka
It's a cruel summer, it been hot, bruh
Mom claim Italian, pops a city Jew
They was both more pasta than latkes
Pops always said, "Watch your posture"
He ain't know my shoulders held lots up
Used to hold me in the mirror
Say I was champ of the world
Shit wasn't gossip, no
Accurate forecast
Lookin' forward, don't need more past
Puttin' rappers in the compost
'Cause can't afford any more trash
I don't got any more passes, feel compassion slippin' 'way
All this savageness in a cage
Whole culture is MMA
Watch the lightning in the clouds
Everything pretty 'til it hits Earth
Our construction is destruction
Tell me really what's the shit worth?
What's the purpose for a wordsmith
If the doors they supposed to open
'Bout to be permanently closed in?
Is it really all just for coping?
Put the cucumber in the vodka
It's a cruel summer, it been hot, bruh
Mom claim Italian, pops a city Jew
They was both more pasta than latkes
Pops always said, "Watch your posture"
He ain't know my shoulders held lots up
Used to hold me in the mirror
Say I was champ of the world
Shit wasn't gossip
On my own, I don't got a roster
Dread on my mind like a rasta
Stressed all the time, pour the sauce up
Young redundant, never puntin'
Fourth and long, always find a way
I be strong my own kind of way
I be strong my own kind of way
Shit, that's all I been tryna say
If you, got a problem with me
I don't really gotta care no more
Ooh, I'm gon' walk in my peace
I don't gotta interfere no more
Who want it?
Bitch, I ain't no newcomer
Cool as the cucumber in the vodka
Baby, it's a new summer
I don't got a new number
Bitch, I got the same doggone line
Might be hard to find though
Somewhere lost in my mind
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Even if it ain't a world left, baby, I'll be damned
Uh
Put the cucumber in the vodka
It's a cruel summer, it been hot, bruh
Mom claim Italian, pops a city Jew
They was both more pasta than latkes
Pops always said, "Watch your posture"
He ain't know my shoulders held lots up
Used to hold me in the mirror
Say I was champ of the world
Shit wasn't gossip, no
Accurate forecast
Lookin' forward, don't need more past
Puttin' rappers in the compost
'Cause can't afford any more trash
I don't got any more passes, feel compassion slippin' 'way
All this savageness in a cage
Whole culture is MMA
Watch the lightning in the clouds
Everything pretty 'til it hits Earth
Our construction is destruction
Tell me really what's the shit worth?
What's the purpose for a wordsmith
If the doors they supposed to open
'Bout to be permanently closed in?
Is it really all just for coping?
Put the cucumber in the vodka
It's a cruel summer, it been hot, bruh
Mom claim Italian, pops a city Jew
They was both more pasta than latkes
Pops always said, "Watch your posture"
He ain't know my shoulders held lots up
Used to hold me in the mirror
Say I was champ of the world
Shit wasn't gossip
On my own, I don't got a roster
Dread on my mind like a rasta
Stressed all the time, pour the sauce up
Young redundant, never puntin'
Fourth and long, always find a way
I be strong my own kind of way
I be strong my own kind of way
Shit, that's all I been tryna say
If you, got a problem with me
I don't really gotta care no more
Ooh, I'm gon' walk in my peace
I don't gotta interfere no more
Who want it?
Bitch, I ain't no newcomer
Cool as the cucumber in the vodka
Baby, it's a new summer
I don't got a new number
Bitch, I got the same doggone line
Might be hard to find though
Somewhere lost in my mind
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Still gon' be the champ though
Still gon' be the champ
Even if it ain't a world left, baby, I'll be damned
Uh
Credits
Writer(s): Unknown Writer, Eddie Best, Eugene Dorsett, Rufus Mitchell, Marlon Sean Cirker, Theodor Bengt Arbus
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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