Текст Lil’ Kim – Champagne Poppin’

Intro:
Kimmy Blanco, Wiz Khalifa
New Lil’ Kim, Wiz Khalifa
This right here’s called Poppin’ Champagne

Lil Kim:
Keep the champagne coming all night, that’s my motto
To everybody in the crowd got they own bottle
Nails done, hair done, manicured toes
They still on them pink bottles, we on that ice roll
Yeah, that’s that new shit
Bottles all white, like Obama’s crib
And they still talking old gold
I just netted half a mil’ from some old gold
Ralph Lauren Polo, that be the logo
Dom P, Ace of Spades, Veuve Cliquot
Champagne bath and a champagne glass
I piss champagne, that’s my campaign ad
I.R.S we the M.V.P.s of the year
See them sparkles in the air, know they coming over here
We poppin’ rosé, like it’s Independence Day
Even though it’s more bottles on the way

Wiz Khalifa:
I’ma need more champagne
Tell the waitress grab a couple more bottles and bring ’em up

Uh, and I’m still talkin’ champagne
Good weed, bad bitches and airplanes
Niggas get extra like spare change
Leave ya bitch ’round my gang, then she fair game
Get so hot, you standing near a flame
20 thousand on my wrist, 50 on my chain
Club owners mad we drinkin’ all the rosé
And niggas hate but I just go off what the hoes say
He a skinny nigga, but he do it big
Yeah it’s lookin’ like a movie but it’s how I live
Young boss, Taylor Gang general
Drinkin’ out the pink bottle, Rosé Imperial
And my bad bitch look like a centrefold
Cook like a chef, smoke like it’s medicinal
Smell the engine burnin’, you hear my tyres murk
We be poppin’ corks like fireworks
(I’ma need more champagne)
VIP is full of red bottles
In the city that I come from, I’m the head honcho
Ounces full of kush, bottles full of Moët
See me in my yellow car, she got so wet
Used to smoke blunts, now she roll planes
Quit fuckin’ with her nigga, he was so lame
Says she love the taste, but she don’t know the name
Drinkin’ by the case, I gon’ need you to bring (more champagne)
I’m with my goons gettin’ liquored up
Make this money then blow it, like I don’t give a fuck
Show up to the club, they brought them bottles out
You gettin’ paper, you should know just what I’m talkin’ ’bout
Uh, I live the life you write a song about
Bitches think I’m famous, favours come in large amounts
Standing on the table, standing on the couch
Somebody tell the waitress that we almost out

I’ma need more champagne
Tell the waitress grab a couple more bottles and bring ’em up
We got a bar for every nigga that came with us
You got some broads, then bring ’em up
Grab a drink and get fucked up
Champagne
See them bottles of rosé when they think of us
We just all up in the club to spend paper up
What you hating for, get the waitress bruh
I’ma need more champagne