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Rednex - We Got Panache lyrics
*SINGING*
You know we got panache
Style, sass, gettin mad cash keepin it under wraps
Pizazz and class we sit in the back
Spendin mad cash money money and we real bad ass
You know we got panache style, sass
Gettin mad ass keepin it under glass
Pizazz and class we kiss in the back
Spittin mad trash honey honey and we real bad ass
*RAPPING*
You know we got panache we gettin mad cash
Paid a dime a second like Diamond Dave and Damon Dash
I spit sonic gas classy psychopath
psychotic iconoclast I got an iconic ass
It's ironic how erotic my robotic sonnets
get girls in bonnets hot like Harry Connicks
Sick on gin and tonics we super sonic hook you on our phonics
Learned Ebonics by erotic ebony dick and Mantronix
Never stoppin it sock electronic shit
allotted the whole club up when we spotted it
And if we wanted it fill it with men and spawn and shit
Ain't nothing wrong with it lets get the party started
Shit let's get it on and hit
High ballin cat callin no alcohol yo we all suck on a strawRednex - We Got Panache - http://motolyrics.com/rednex/we-got-panache-lyrics.html
A certain Je ne sais quoi at the bar
I hit it raw never do look back unless we like what we saw
Never do look back OK papa?
On the case like Steve Case estates like Oprah's place
Savoir faire and grace every hair in place
Here's a taste no time to waste
Do my makeup in the mirror while I sit up on your face
We paid great and when we don't got dates
Dig in the crates eat steak and masturbate
Spin wax make tracks we laid laid back
Ladies get laid and stay up late at that
Now we getting critical mass sass pinnacle
like the citadel not minimal we hospitable
Mad kissable it's difficult aristicral princess
For instance we invincible never divisible make you invisible
Kit in each car Kittens with Kit Kat bars
Kickin etiquette from Connecticut to Zanzibar
Strip malls to big balls 'n concert halls
New York Dolls taggin up bathroom stalls
We All-Stars make folly North down to Raleigh
Follow me suck lollys down in Bali
all enthralled dollies arty as Dali
And when Mr. Rodgers calls me-
We allowed on his trolley