T Pain

(NineOne)

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
Hop in a cab and banging
Me crossword, uh
I'm heading to west and
I'm banging a posh bird, uh
A couple of cans and a puff
On me death stick, uh
A click of me fingers
He's cutting me kofte
Ringing the bow bells
Bringing the waps out
I'm flinging the dry food
Bringing the cats out
They're belling me non-stop
Sending the lads out
I hop in me drop top
I'm running a man down
Mr. Big Bucks
I be looking the business
Dressed to kill, mumma got
Me up on her hit list
Pole positioned, had her
Fella running the distance
I be banging her, banging her
Banging her, giving her triplets
The bigger the back
The bigger the butt crack
The bigger the chance the
Bird's up in me contacts
Her figure's a big deal
A pen on a contract
Sign me up, baby, give a
Tip of my top hat
And I've been whipping the white
Puffing a Benson
Pushing the pack
The full stack like I'm benching
Give 'em the fish scale
They slide like a penguin
Flipping the chicken, my bill's wide
Fuck a pension
Slow-mo vision
I been puffing a peace pipe
Selling three five's to the
Fiends by the seaside
Ima tear lines in the
Seams of my Levi's
With a stack thicker than
Nicki Minaj behind
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