Correction Lyrics Daily Duppy (Pt.2) by GRM Daily

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Lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah (WhyJay)

Can't lie, most people are fake
I'm lookin' at man like who can I trust?
Come like I'm shootin' blanks
When I tell ya' I'm leavin' yutes in the dust
Fans wanna hear gang in the place
Get ga**ed when they chat 'bout shootin' it up
But I got your favourite rappers shook when I say I got studio booked
Tell your bae she can have that purse, Ray J, I tapped it first
Catch a case when I pack that verse, lay it and stab that word
Cute face, but her backs absurd, no doubt, I'ma mash that works
Make my d**k disappеar when I tap it, baby got magic curves
Foot on your neck and my facе on telly
Reasons to hate too many
Got your bae in my bed in the lace front steady
Features are facial ready
Put beats in a grave, it's Aitch not Freddy
I don't need blades or 'chete
Got Ps to be made but I'm paid already
King of the rave, big Shelly
Firm that right to the face, don't speak on the net, that's lame, that's petty
First cla** flight to L.A., had beef on the jet like Wayne and Headie
I was at wireless with Ché, had to clean up the set 'cause it rained too heavy
Still my left wrist brighten your day, my brudda can't wave, sh*ts way too heavy
Aitch too paid, got my stacks on bolo, I don't do Snapchat promo
Bentaygas, Ranges, Lambs or Rollo, used to be blacked out Polo
Still famous, Moston Lanin' solo, I ain't gotta roll with bro-bro
Trust me, I'm good in my hood, only cover my face when I don't want photo
I brought the food to the table, it's only right that I sat down first
Had no room for the racks in my man-bag so I just packed out hers
They say I keep spittin' the same old sh*t, huh, all you rap about's girls
Money, music and sex, I don't know much more, brudda that's my world
Back to the 4 whole block out tonight, seen shottas smoke rock out a pipe
Some on the B, some chop up the white, set man pour wok out the pint
My **** gyal just phoned, told me she want sweet boy c*cky tonight
Ask about my postcode, don't think sweet boy won't knock out your lights
Pushin' Manny got my block lit, cuzzy pushin' cali said it's on ship
Spent a milli', went and left the city, still the ends are with me on some mob tip
Took a Fendi and I drop six, had the shop smelly 'cause I'm hot sh*t
My bro be showin' me these Insta baddies, you ain't shown me many that I've not hit
Fr-free Samurai, free Tallerz, even in pen, all my guys are ballers
Br-bro got beef with his old best mate when he's ridin' he finds it awkward
No girls that'll line man up, no girls that'll rack up a line and snort it
My gyal twenty-three with the legs in the air and the tongue out, Michael Jordan
On the scene since '018, all I've met is bare jokers and OAPs
Ask bando if I've been D-A-O, A-I-T-C-H, G-O-A-T
Our kids graftin' and throwin' Ps
Had a drought this summer 'cause snow ain't cheap
See rap yutes hatin' but he ain't bro
Yeah, he ain't raps like man but bro ain't me
'019 I was catchin' homis, verses got wrapped and bodied
Parties in hotels, packed out lobbies
Can't lie I ran through Johnny's
'017 with the packs in college, used to skip cla** in forest
If rap don't work, grow weed but the rap sh*t works so my stack just flourished
They say I went mainstream on 'em, but back in the day told me I ain't got hits
Every day get asked for a favour but don't get shouted when I ain't got sh*t
That's why I stay sh*ttin' on man
Most the gyal that you've pray for, sat on my block list
Got a bad ting livin' off man
Boyfriend's on the wing, she's sat in the c*ckpit
Like why does he rap like that?
I hope white boys energies matchin' his d**k
Swear I feel like backin' it out to show 'em what time it actually is
If I'm lyin', I'm dyin' and I'm still alive
So it's only facts that I spit
At least that I don't just─
At least I don't chat sh*t
Like all you borin' rappers
At least I don't─ what?
At least I just don't lie in my raps
Half of the UK scene just cap for the kids
Had to squeeze the bar out, f**kin' hell

Yeah (Yeah)
Yo

Back up on my bullsh*t
Broski done it bait it, have no mask on when he pulled it
Someone f**ked your gyal and now you're mad 'cause we're the culprits
Come to M-Town without a pa**, you'll get your skull split
She want a rapper, tell her chat my way
She want a trapper 'cause she can't buy yay
If it ain't a jet, I'm in business, I just can't fly bait
Spark a zobbie then I start my day
Honestly, I fell in love with money and my heart might break
Lost friends, but I can't buy mates
F**k her so good in the Bentley, the car might break
Said "I love you, but you aren't my bae"
Fam, I make racks 'fore I wake up, stack lookin' eight-foot
Bad b*t*h a K-cup, MAC for a make up
Racks goin' straight up, rats showin' fake love
She just called me ugly, facts, I'm just a eight plus
She wan' get jiggy said I'm with it, pull my willy out
Trippin' if you think I ain't livin' what I spit about
Can't nobody on the ends say I'm not still around
I just left a realtor with a smile, seven figures down
Manchester, gang-chester, slang-chester
Lot of bands-chester, man pop up and bang 'chester
Ask tunde, here the cali lands better, sh*t
Call me Banko, got that pack of land cheddar
Couple mill, that's quick bands, I'm on big sh*t
Only thing left is Ms. Banks on my wish list
Young boy that can handle his business
Do it on cam, no hands when I lick this
Hop in the Rolls and head straight to the show
Can't stop if you don't know me, I got places to go
Look at my wrist, it's just a plate full of dough
Baby, this ain't a Rollie, it's a Jacob & Co
I set the trend for all the youngers, can't nobody tell me nothin'
Got a problem? We can sort somethin' out
Couple bruddas with me thuggin', some of them are about the money
But don't think they won't walk somethin' down
Find the limit then I push it, ain't got time for no discussion
Brudda, shut it, f**k you talkin' about?
Collect my money up and run it, see who's bank account's the fullest
Most be daft you think it's all in the house

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