T-Pain (Remix)

Lyrics

[Intro] NineOne [Chorus: Pete] I spin fellas, my swing quicker than Federer I serve packets, they bounce back on the regular And I'ma tell a hussie, "Sing for me, T-Pain" [Verse 1: T-Pain] (I got it) There's no bigger, the flow killer, fa-sho hitter A go-getter, the nose flicker for gold diggers Pull up at the red light, cut off your headlight You could never shine like me, dawg, my glow realer Who put that tune on it? Who had them chunes goin'? Bеfore your iPhone had iTunes on it Thе hob goblin got mobbers, robbers, and goons on it The gobstopper, she slobberin' for a few moments I lack negligence, black excellence The R&B artist that rap better than rap veterans That's why your girl hollerin', "Sing for me, T-Pain" The deal's done, the debt's paid, I settled it Now shut up, bitch [Verse 2: Pete and Bas] Smack bang in the face, butt of the Ruger Chuck him in the back of the Lex, I don't mean Luther Turn him into a headstone, call me Medusa Then I'll be sinking a fucking Guinness in the boozer Limoncello the colour upon the Panamera Got a tool in the glovvy, I don't mean Black & Decker Flippin' jabbin' a fella like I'm Conor McGregor Then I'm making him disappear like I'm Penn & Teller Gripping him up and slamming him down I still look slick in me tux when I'm having 'em out I run amok, kiss on the ring, the king of the town I roll it up, puff of the booj, a can of the stout Get down, licking the shots, I'm nicking his watch I'm hopping out, poppin' the top like Jack In The Box I dish 'em out, chopping the rocks and dropping 'em off And I'll be running up the digits like I'm Top of the Pops Birds whistle when I walk like this Best listen when I talk like this I'm outside on the curb with me tats out If he's hard, he can try chalk line this Chain swinging when I walk like this Heads bopping when I talk like this I'm outside on the curb with the straps out Have a laugh, you ain't gonna chalk line shit [Chorus: Pete and Bas] I spin fellas, my swing quicker than Federer I serve packets, they bounce back on the regular And I'ma tell a hussie, "Sing for me, T-Pain" Your mumma's hooked on the packs I been selling her I click hammers and bang 'em and let my nuts hang I fill his head with the lead like a mukbang The magazine make me lean when I walk And the drumstick'll make an head bang like a punk band