We Got Panache Lyrics by Princess Superstar

We Got Panache Lyrics

    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
    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 straw
    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

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