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T Pain Remix
Pete & Bas, T-Pain
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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(Nine, one)
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"
(I got it) there's no bigger, the flow killer, for sure 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 tunes goin'?
Before your iPhone had iTunes on it
Thะต hobgoblin got mobsters, 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
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 color upon the Panamera
Got a tool in the glovvy, I don't mean Black and Decker
Flippin' jabbin' a fella like I'm Conor McGregor
Then I'm making him disappear like I'm Penn and 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, choppin' the rocks and droppin' 'em off
And I'll be runnin' 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 swingin' when I walk like this
Heads boppin' 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
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 mama's hooked on the packs, I been sellin' 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
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