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Feelin’ It by Muthoni Drummer Queen

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Lyrics for Feelin’ It by Muthoni Drummer Queen

Yo! This is Muthoni The Drummer Queen
See, I don’t usually do this but…
As far as I can see
I need to enforce some things by royal decree
Shut down your yackity mackity smack
Listen up son. . . this one is for you

(verse 1)
First things first
Call up the mortuary
Tell ‘em on this track, murder of the century
And for my kindness I’ll pay for the obituary
Sorry for the mess, I do this too habitually
Second up, I propose a toast
Raise your glass high from Nairobi to Coast
See I don’t need to brag and I don’t wanna boast
But I will cut you down, for acting like a toast

by Bahizi

Ati eh umeingia club na kadem kabarbie
Kamestand kasafi
Kanaitwa Fulani
Na ni nusu mlami
Na nywele mabegani unadhani eti kwamba nita jali
I didn’t know eti uko funny
For wasting your time baby. .
Pole samahani
I thought I told ya
I’ll never be your honey
It’s irrelevant to me about
Your car, your crib, your money
This is not me playing hard to get
This is me saying that I’m hard to get
It’s in my blood running through my veins royal
Media, tell them how I do super loyal
And to be clear, I don’t deal with potential
Wanna step to me?
Better have credeeeentials. .
Like ‘so special so special so special’
Tinashe ‘Bouncin” (Live Performance) | Open Mic
Heeeey yoooo
Where you at, where my party people at
Heeeey yoooo
Raise your cup high toast to the good life
Heeeey yoooo
Itakuwaje, boss itakuwaje
Heeeeey yoooo
Now we feelin’ it really really feelin’ it

Her highness, miss flyness
Lyrically is a weapon of mass violence
Operating with a Double O 7 license
Relegating all your chitter chatter jabber nonsense
Now let’s be clear, on who they really fear
Who rocks the party hard from the front to the rear
It’s the drummer mama
On the club banger
Hang you out to dry like clothes on a hanger

Ati eh umeingia kwenye booth
Na ka-gold kwenye tooth
Na tu-dem a kina Ruth
Ati ndio waki-sooth
Mpaka umezima lights
Ati ndio mood i–right
Ka Malawi ati ndio uwe flight
No wonder all your songs sound weak
You wouldn’t sound better if we all gave a week…to you
Truth said I got better things to do
Step aside son real army coming through
To all my singers, in the ‘bafu choir’
All my people strumming on the air guitar wire
Chair table dashboard, drummer’s on fire
Making trumpet harmonies on your head wryer
It’s a felony, how we make this sweet sweet. .
Bring the beat back yeeeeaaaahhhh!

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