T Pain Remix (feat. T - Pain)

(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

Thе 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