Ecco un titolo che colpisce

Ecco un titolo che colpisce lyrics

Official lyrics for “Ecco un titolo che colpisce” by Festival Guy.

Intro – Shouts] Pick it up! Pick it up! Hey, Shannon Brown, hit send now!

[Verse 1] Shannon’s got the subject line tight and neat, Syncopated fingers tappin’ off-beat. “FYI,” “BTW,” she’s slick with the wit, Hides a little Easter egg—did you spot that tit? (Horns: bah-bah, bah-bah-bah!)

[Pre-Chorus] She’s skankin’ through the inbox like a downtown queen, Carbon-copy crew in a black-and-white scene. Signature’s crisp, like a checkerboard fit, One more line break—there it is (there it is!)—that tit.

[Chorus] Reply-all riddim, bop to the beat, Upstroke guitars and shufflin’ feet. Shannon Brown’s emails? Always a hit— Two-tone groove with a tiny lil’ tit. Pick it up! Pick it up!

[Verse 2] Nine a.m. ping and the coffee goes down, Calendar jam, but she’s runnin’ this town. “Per my last note,” she’ll tighten it a bit, Then tuck a cheeky bird in—yep, that lil’ tit. (Toaster ad-lib: Blue tit, great tit, inbox lit!)

[Pre-Chorus] BCC mystery, secrets in play, Skank to the right, then skank the other way. Zoom in the header, you’ll see where it sit, Perched on the phrasing—a tasteful tit.

[Chorus] Reply-all riddim, bop to the beat, Upstroke guitars and shufflin’ feet. Shannon Brown’s emails? Always a hit— Two-tone groove with a tiny lil’ tit. Pick it up! Pick it up!

[Bridge – Call & Response] Call: “Office lights glow, midnight shift!” Resp: “Shannon hits send, spirits lift!” Call: “Spell-check skank, commas fit!” Resp: “Hidden in the rhyme, there’s the—(shhh!) tit!”

[Breakdown] (Horns riff, keys bubble, drum rimshots) Type-type-type, ding-ding—there it go! In the body, never sloppy, like a rude-boy show. No fuss, no quit, just a sly little bit, Everybody smile when they find that tit.

[Final Chorus] Reply-all riddim, office on fire, Two-tone tempo, lift it higher! Shannon Brown’s style? Legit, legit— Stamp that send with a ska-beat tit. Pick it up! Pick it up! (Hey!)

[Outro] Best regards, and we out for the night— Shannon Brown’s emails skankin’ just right. Trumpets fade, screens go dim— Tomorrow at nine, we skank again.