Lyrics for Champagne by Travis Barker :
[Verse 1]
Ya’already know what it is man
Taylor Gang And I’m still talkin’ champagne
Good weed, bad b*tches and airplanes
n*gga’s get extra likes, spare change
Leave your b*tch around my gang then she fair game
Gets so hot, you standin’ near a flame
Twenty thousand on my wrist, fifty on my chain
Club owners mad, We drinking all the Rose
And n*ggas hate but I just go off what the hoes say
He a skinny n*gga, but he do it big
Yeah, it’s looking like a movie, but it’s how I live
Young boss, Taylor Gang General
Drinking out the pink bottle Rose Imperial
And my bad b*tch look like a center fold
Cook like a chef, smoke weed like it’s medicinal
Smell the engine burning you hear my tires murk
We be poppin’ corks like fireworks

I’ma’ need more champagne
Tell the waitress just grab a couple more bottles and bring’em up
We got a bar for every n*gga that came with us
We got the buzz now bring’em up grab your drink and get
f*cked up. Champagne, Champagne.. Lahh ah…
See bottles of rose when they think of us
See all of’em in the club gonna pay for us
But you ain’t gonna f*ck the waitress Brah
I’mma need more champagne!

[Verse 2]
VIP’s 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
Seen me in my yellow car, she got all wet
Use to smoke blunts, now she roll plane
Quit f*ck’n with her n*gga, he was so lame!
She said she love the taste, but she don’t know the name
Drinkin by the case, I’m gonna needyea ta bring
More Champagne!
I’m with my goons getting liquored up
Make this money, then blow it like I don’t give a f*ck!
Show up to the club they pull them bottles out
You get’in paper you should know just what I’m talk’n bout!
Uh, I live the life you write a song about
b*tches think I’m famous favors come in larger amounts
Standing on the table, standing on the couch
Somebody tell the waitress that we almost out. Hahaha