More songs by Jordan Ward
Description
Vocalist, Composer Lyricist: Jordan Ward
Mixing Engineer, Producer, Executive Producer: Lido
Producer: Zach Ezzy
Composer Lyricist: Luke Titus
Composer Lyricist: Zachary Ezickson
Mixing Engineer, Engineer: Michael Gove
Engineer: Eli Heisler
Mastering Engineer: Colin Leonard
A& R: Tim Glover
Aand Rcoordinator: Alyssa Bautista
Aand Rcoordinator: Marlon Dobbins
Aand Radministrator: Marissa Wickliffe
Composer Lyricist: Peder Losnegård
Lyrics and translation
Original
Well, let's. Yeah.
Everything of late has a touch of ceremonious, 'cause what we built ain't picture perfect, but shit is close enough.
Remember pushing that even back then when our shit start knocking, when I swear to Bobby with me blowing us.
Two steps ahead of me getting too ahead of myself, so much to the point that I might've started slowing up.
Niggas still losing jobs, friends continuing still figuring out how to survive. I fucked the money up like self-control so many times.
We could've been financially free when I was twenty-five.
Damn, look how the time go. Still on survival.
What can you bring home to mom? Does he come to your door?
He could play, he could ball, but what did he hang on the wall? What can you hang on the wall?
What can -you hang on the wall? -Yeah, and it's all said.
You're a champion, a champion.
Mommy, you're a champion, a warrior. Mommy, you're a champion.
Mommy, you're a warrior.
Don't you see the champion already?
While I was all out on them stages, my name ringing bells, she was going through them stages. I'm just glad she rang the bell.
Though I couldn't blame her, I was sad she kept it to herself. All that time, I couldn't help.
She could say the same, though. Never told her I was in that cell.
Ran out of Europe for a zip on a plane going to Norway.
She had pennies for my thoughts, but I'd rather learn the hard way. My first year making money, now I gotta pay them lawyers.
Three nights thinking, "How the fuck I play with this thing of ours?
" Leto said they won't give a fuck if I'm a singing star, 'cause this some immigration shit.
Police didn't even bring the charges.
Thinking it's time to make shit shake whenever I reach the states. Building our future if I ever feel I need escape.
Locked in the stu', making sure I don't throw these keys away. Grateful I could see the day.
Time is of the essence, so fuck it, gotta just do what's fair for. . .
Used to bring the pocket knife to walk the quick trip through the school year.
Reminisce with. . .
'bout the dumb shit we be doing years 'fore, but we still not in the clear, boy. Little cousin picking up bad habits, shit bring me to tears, boy.
Thinking how far should a champion go before I bring home the trophy?
Reflect the light and decompressing the glow with all the rest of my folks.
I'm two weeks sober just to test it, I'm a vessel at most.
Get this shit off my chest, but -please don't put a S on that ho. -What can you bring home to mom?
Does he come to your door?
He could play, he could ball, but what did he hang on the wall? What can you hang on the wall?
What can you hang on the wall? Yeah, and it's all said.
You're a -champion. -Mommy, you're a champion.
-Mommy, you're a champion. -Mommy, you're a warrior.
-Mommy, you're a champion. -Mommy, you're a warrior.
Don't you see the champion already?
What's going on? Pull over! Hold your ass, man, nigga, pull over.
What's up, little. . . ?
English translation
Well, let's. Yeah.
Everything of late has a touch of ceremonious, 'cause what we built ain't picture perfect, but shit is close enough.
Remember pushing that even back then when our shit start knocking, when I swear to Bobby with me blowing us.
Two steps ahead of me getting too ahead of myself, so much to the point that I might've started slowing up.
Niggas still losing jobs, friends continuing still figuring out how to survive. I fucked the money up like self-control so many times.
We could've been financially free when I was twenty-five.
Damn, look how the time go. Still on survival.
What can you bring home to mom? Does he come to your door?
He could play, he could ball, but what did he hang on the wall? What can you hang on the wall?
What can -you hang on the wall? -Yeah, and it's all said.
You're a champion, a champion.
Mommy, you're a champion, a warrior. Mommy, you're a champion.
Mommy, you're a warrior.
Don't you see the champion already?
While I was all out on them stages, my name ringing bells, she was going through them stages. I'm just glad she rang the bell.
Though I couldn't blame her, I was sad she kept it to herself. All that time, I couldn't help.
She could say the same, though. Never told her I was in that cell.
Ran out of Europe for a zip on a plane going to Norway.
She had pennies for my thoughts, but I'd rather learn the hard way. My first year making money, now I gotta pay them lawyers.
Three nights thinking, "How the fuck I play with this thing of ours?
" Leto said they won't give a fuck if I'm a singing star, 'cause this some immigration shit.
Police didn't even bring the charges.
Thinking it's time to make shit shake whenever I reach the states. Building our future if I ever feel I need escape.
Locked in the stu', making sure I don't throw these keys away. Grateful I could see the day.
Time is of the essence, so fuck it, gotta just do what's fair for. . .
Used to bring the pocket knife to walk the quick trip through the school year.
Reminisce with. . .
'bout the dumb shit we be doing years 'fore, but we still not in the clear, boy. Little cousin picking up bad habits, shit bring me to tears, boy.
Thinking how far should a champion go before I bring home the trophy?
Reflect the light and decompressing the glow with all the rest of my folks.
I'm two weeks sober just to test it, I'm a vessel at most.
Get this shit off my chest, but -please don't put a S on that ho. -What can you bring home to mom?
Does he come to your door?
He could play, he could ball, but what did he hang on the wall? What can you hang on the wall?
What can you hang on the wall? Yeah, and it's all said.
You're a -champion. -Mommy, you're a champion.
-Mommy, you're a champion. -Mommy, you're a warrior.
-Mommy, you're a champion. -Mommy, you're a warrior.
Don't you see the champion already?
What's going on? Pull over! Hold your ass, man, nigga, pull over.
What's up, little. . . ?