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T-Pain Video (MV)




Performed By: Pete.
Featuring: Bas
Language: English
Length: 2:17
Written by: Barnaby Baxter Addison, Jonathan Charles Lewis Gibson




Pete. - T-Pain Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Bas ]

(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 mother'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
I'm heading to west and I'm banging a posh bird
A couple of cans and a puff on me death stick
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, mama 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, f*ck a pension
Slow Mo vision, I been puffing a peace pipe
Selling three five's to the fiends by the seaside
I'ma 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

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 mother'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
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




(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 mother'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
I'm heading to west and I'm banging a posh bird
A couple of cans and a puff on me death stick
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, mama 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, f*ck a pension
Slow Mo vision, I been puffing a peace pipe
Selling three five's to the fiends by the seaside
I'ma 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

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 mother'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
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Barnaby Baxter Addison, Jonathan Charles Lewis Gibson
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

Back to: Pete.

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