fenksta - t-pain (remix) || open verse challenge lyrics
[intro]
nineone
[chorus: pete & 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 cl!ck 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
[verse 1: fenksta]
florida + agram, u london pa natrag
godina kratka, korak naprijed na kvadrat
noćima praćka, tamo zovi ga gazda
a za neke od vas je bolje da se ne sazna
ulica je jedna, a ona je gradska
čemu biti skroman, daj da si laskam
današnja prazna glazba nije masna
nisam vlasnik kaska jer ne znam kaskat
vozim se po beatu, radnja automatska
swipe+am u desno još od dana faksa
nije kazna čak i ako je daska
ali je praksa kad se praska da je glasna
t+pain remix, grabi se šanse
jer se danas svaka čini vanzemaljska
moja riječ je časna, tu se baca nijansa
svi ste obični, a ja rijedak k’o shiny lapras
[t+pain:] “now shut up, b+tch”
[verse 2: pete and bas]
smack bang in the face, b+tt 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 f+cking 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 sl!ck 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, l!cking 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
[bridge: pete & bas]
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 sh+t
[chorus: pete & 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 cl!ck 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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