Tinie Tempah - Postman Pat lyrics

They call me the postman
Cause, I give them letters on time
I rap but I sound better on grime
I'm strapped but not with a metal or 9
I've migrated to MySpace and
It is TinieLegend t-in-ie-l-e-g-e-n-d
So hit me up if you're ever online
I spit the truth, ain't never on lying
Most of these guys are better off blind
'Cause they ain't seen half the shit they say
And they keep telling us lies
What a bunch of stupid pricks
Talking like they move food
Don't you motherfuckers use a fridge?
I'm hot like kettles so I've told labels
That I won't settle or sign
Till I see one more zero
Then we can all just get along fine
And we can toast Amaretto, unwind
I've clearly made good use
Of the English language
So you MCs best start taking up sign
My music's making up minds
I end relationships and begin them
By just making up rhymes
Just listen to "Tears" and "Wifey"
Some can't believe I ain't signed but, I can
Cause my plan is to rule
The world first like titans
Oh, by the way I'm

Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat (so they call me)
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
(don't you know my name is)
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
(even your Mrs calls me)
Postman Pat because I open that flap
And then I post my pack
And before she knows it, i'm back

They call me Postman Pat
I'll come outside most man's flats
I ain't your average MC
I'm much doper than that
Let's see if you can cope an attack
I can kill and bury an MC for you
I just need 32 bars, some rope and a sack
I can murk two MCs like
Uh, you guys are shifty
You've both come back from the mountain
And both of you have broken your backs
So focused, more focused than Pac
Write in the car while they
Buss joke at the back
That's why I make hit's frequently
And you put all your hope on a track
And you want the track on air so much
You kiss one hundred DJs' arses
Still they don't play your tune
Nope, 'cause that's their choice
I've only ever heard it on radio once
Bless ya but for every DJ you know
I know 1Xtra et cetera, et cetera
My raps are so good that
When you finally understand you gon' giggle
I don't sell drugs but my breds can get
Some real cheap food, no Lidl's
I'm so little, my haircut's so colourful
Looks like someone's thrown Skittles
Post my nigga door with the nine
Oops, I mean at nine

Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat (so they call me)
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
(don't you know my name is)
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat, Postman Pat
(even your Mrs calls me)
Postman Pat because I open that flap
And then I post my pack
And before she knows it, i'm back

Yeah, and Postman Patrick has only got
Three goals like a hat trick, yeah
To be signed
To be rich and to go out with a supermodel
And that's it don't act like you don't know
Who Postman Pat is
All you MCs waiting for your
Gyro every couple of weeks, haha
I'm out ayy, get me a drink, man

Postman Pat, Postman Pat
Postman Pat and his black and white-

"White man makes gun"

Early in the morning
"Black rapper says gun congressional hearing
Like oh my god, that nigga said gun! And he
Rhymed it with fun!"