Y'already know what it is, man
Taylor Gang
And I'm still talking champagne
Good weed, bad bitches and airplanes
Niggas get extra light spare change
Leave your bitch round my gang then she fair game
Gets so hot standing near a flame
20 thousand on my wrist 50 on my chain,
Club owners mad, we drinking all the rozay
And niggas hate but I just go off what the hoes say
He a skinny nigga but he do it big
Ya it's looking like a movie but it's how I live
Young boss, Taylor Gang general
Drinking out the pink bottle, Rozay Imperial,
And my bad bitch look like the centrefold
Cook like a chef, smoke weed like it's medicinal
Smell the engine burn, you hear my tires murk
We be popping corks like fireworks
[chorus]
I'ma need more champagne
Tell the waitress bring a couple more bottles and break ‘em up,
We buy the bar for every nigga that came with us
We got some broads to drink ‘em all grab a drink and get fucked up
See them bottles of rozay aint a thing to us
Just bought ‘em in the club cause our paper up
Bitch you hate the waitress? bruh
I'ma need more champagne
VIP full of red bottles, in the city that I come from I'm the head honcho
Ounces full of kush, bottles full of more wet
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,
Said she love the taste but she don't know the name
Drinking by the case I'm gonna need ya to bring more champagne
I'm with my goons gettin liquored up
Make this money and blow it like I don't give a fuck
Show ‘em to the club they pull them bottles out
If you gettin paper you should know just what I'm talking about,
Uh I live the life you write a song about
Bitches think I'm famous, favors come in large amounts
Standing on the table, standing on the couch
Somebody tell the waitress cause we almost out
[chorus]
I'ma need more champagne
Tell the waitress bring a couple more bottles and break ‘em up,
We buy the bar for every nigga that came with us
We got some broads to drink ‘em all grab a drink and get fucked up
See them bottles of rozay aint a thing to us
Just bought ‘em in the club cause our paper up
Bitch you hate the waitress? bruh
I'ma need more champagne
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