Feelin It Lyrics (Muthoni The Drummer Queen)

(intro)

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,

Ati eh umeingia club na kadem kabarbie,

Kamestand kasafi,

Kanaitwa Fulani,

Na ni nusu mlami,

Na nywele mabegani unadhani eti kwamba nita jali,

Jamani

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’,

(chorus)

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,

Jamani,

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

(bridge)

it’s a felony, how we make this sweet sweet. . .

melodies

bring the beat back yeeeeaaaahhhh!

(chorus) X2