Correction Lyrics 365 Day Grind by BabyTron

Back

Lyrics

[Intro]
I don't stop hustling
This hustling shit like breathing to me
This shit really don't stop
As soon as I wake up it's the first thing I do (You're not making this easy, Kyle)
It's the first thing I think about, I don't take breaks
This shit three-six-five, two-six-nine
You hear me, clearly

[Verse 1]
The whole team gotta work, from the manger to janitor
Caught him tryna dodge, now his Challenger a massacre
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
I done made it to the league, you an amateur
LAX trip like I ain't dribble, I'm a traveler
Thought I fell off but I was hanging off the banistеr
D-dollar sign-to the M, I'm the ambassador

[Chorus]
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calеndar
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar, ha-ha-ha, yeah
The whole team gotta work, from the manger to the janitor
Caught him tryna dodge, now his Challenger a massacre
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind (I'ma do the calendar), yeah, bitch (DSM)

[Verse 2]
You won't find another me, I'm generational
If I up a hunnid on the 'Gram, the purpose educational
On a mission to the riches 'cause I think the quest obtainable
We want yo life now, that lil' debt ain't payable
Rock star, flip into crowd like Taka Michinoku
If you get a chance to score, a lob is what I'm finna throw you
I don't owe you shit, I don't owe you nothing
I got a pint, bro got a pint, is you gon' pour you something?

[Chorus]
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar, ha-ha-ha, yeah
The whole team gotta work, from the manger to the janitor
Caught him tryna dodge, now his Challenger a massacre
Fuck a thirty day grind, I'ma do the calendar
Fuck a thirty day grind (I'ma do the calendar), yeah

[Verse 3]
I'm either spraying Glocks, Baccarat, or Creed (Sheesh)
I don't box, bet these shots make 'em bop and weave
You out here playing like the old Shaq, why you hopping teams? (Lame, yo old-ass out here hopping teams)
Tryna hit my bitch? You better off hitting the lottery
Touch yo dead homies in the sky, it's a robbery
I be where the dollars be, why you think these Ksubi's cram?
If my hitter pop a P, you better hope his toolie jammed, fuck

[Outro]
(Thought I fell off but I was hanging off the banister)
(D-dollar sign-to the M, I'm the ambassador)

music video

Your name will be published. Leave fields blanks to remain anonymous.