Champagne Tiers - CrimeApple, RLX

Woah

Are you not feeling okay?

Do you suffer from frequent bouts triggered by the accomplishments of others?

Or drinking too much champagne?

(Haa!)

If you answered «Yes» to any of these questions, chances are you’re a loser

and/or a bum (A fucking bum!)

Broke miserable ass motherfuckers

That should be me (Y'all sick)

It’s fucking gross

We not boutta act like I’m not me, man

Y’all sick (Woah!)

Medallo

I need a thousand, not a

My () put the

Hide the powder in my socks, power in my thoughts

Provide a plan

Fiend hit me like, «I need grams»

Understand, we gon' fold you lik a chinese fan

tryna make my mind

I send th waves, day to day hustle for night stands

Getting paid, sun beaming on the side of my face

Shorty tryna take me out of my space, I’d rather escape

I’m running laps around you like I came to practice late

Move the package out of, to they gravitate

It’s a thousand ways to spin it, but only one

(Only one, only one, only one…)

Motherfuckers is lame, man

I know I can’t be the only one (Fuck, shit!)

A fool cut in

With a bitch look like and got the waist of a horse

You know, competition of mine you just wine, go crush the grapes of remorse

You know I always step to the plate steaks with the sauce

on me is a mystery, nah, don’t get lost

You can’t write this chapter of history without my name at the front of your

thoughts

I got more and plenty to celebrate but it cost (Toma!)

Dawg, this blood on my hands it doesn’t come off (Toma!)

So I pop the cork to commemorate these thoughts that I made commas off (Click)

Somebody do more than talk, they find a corpse tomahawk (Woah)

It was more, I used to have a in my side drawer, that was painful

When it’s people you love and used to look up to coming to pay you

But I kept the grat view, pay dues, remain dedicated and faithful

I had a breakthrough, now these

And then it’s the people who talk and hate for all of the things you went

through

Let that happen,

handshakes and funny faces I see you making

At first I ain’t know what to make of it

This must be anguish

Bring the of Moët and a couple of Aces

I tested positive for hatred (Damn)

Woah (Damn)

Woah (Nasty motherfuckers)

Salud

Pica pica pa' los que hablan mucho!

los envidiosos

Quieto!

Que aquí hay pa' rato…

¿Que no quiere caldo?

Se le dan dos tazas

Es que no te quieren ver en Londres tomando champaña

Les duele, les duele…

What’s the problem?

You look different?

You sound different?

, too fucking bad

Listen to this guy

Mátalos, ¡mátalos con más éxitos!

No me den candela, no me tiren sal

No me prendan velas, no voy a cambiar…