the Song "The Drill" by The Dor Brothers | Lyrics

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, fuck 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