Daily Duppy (Pt.1) Lyrics by Aitch (feat. GRM Daily)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(It’s Tekky)
Yeah (Whyjay)
Can’t lie, most people are fake
I’m looking at man like “Who can I trust?”
Come like I’m shooting blanks
When I tell you I’m leaving yutes in the dust
Fans wanna hear gang in the place
Get gassed when they chat ’bout shooting 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 patt’ that verse
Lay it and stab that word
Cute face but her back’s absurd
No doubt I’ma mash that works
Make my dick disappear when I tap it
Baby got magic curves
Foot on your neck, and my face on telly
Reasons to hate, too many
Got your bae in my bed, and her lace-front steady
Features are facial-ready
Put beats in the grave, it’s Aitch, not Freddy
I don’t need blade or ‘chete
Got P’s 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-class flight to LA
Had beef on the jet like Wayne and Headie
I was at Wireless with Jay
Had to clean up the set ’cause it rained too heavy
Still my left wrist brighten your day
My bad, I can’t wave to you, it’s way too heavy
Aitch 2K, got my stacks on bolo
I don’t do Snapchat promo
Bentaygas, Ranges, Lambs or Rollo
Used to be a blacked-out Polo
Still famous, Moston lanin’, solo
I don’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 shit, huh
“All you rap ’bout’s girls”
Money, music and sex, I don’t know much more
Brother, that’s my world
Back to the four, whole block out tonight
Seen shots smoke rock out a pipe
Some on the b, some chop up the white
‘Cept man pour wok out the pint
**** gyal just phoned
Told me she want sweet boy cocky tonight
Ask about in my post code
Don’t think sweet boy won’t knock out your lights
Pushing Manny, got my block lit
Cuzzy pushin’ Cali’, said he’s on shit
Spent a milli’, went and left the city
Still the ends are with me on some mob tip
Took her Fendi and I dropped six
Had the shop smelly ’cause I’m hot shit
My bro be showin’ me these Insta’ baddies
He ain’t shown me many that I’ve not hit
Free Samurai, Free Tallerz
Even in pen’, all my guys are ballers
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’s twenty-three with her legs in the air
And her tongue out, Michael Jordan
On the scene since ‘018
All I’ve met is bare jokers and OAPs
Ask Bando if I been DAO
AITCH GOAT
Our kid’s graftin’, I throw him P’s
Had a drought this summer ’cause snow ain’t cheap
See rap yutes hatin’, but he ain’t bro
Yeah, raps like man, but bro ain’t me
‘019, I was catchin’ homi’s
Verses got wrapped and bodied
Parties in hotels, packed out lobbies
Can’t lie, I ran through johnnies
‘017 with the packs in college
Used to skip class in forest
If rap don’t work, grow weed
But the rap shit worked, 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 shit
That’s why I stay shittin’ on man
Most the gyal that you pray for are sat on my blocked list
Got a bad ting livin’ off man
Boyfriend’s on the wing, she’s sat in the cockpit
“Like why does he rap like that?
I hope white boy’s energy’s matchin’ his dick”
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
Least I don’t just–
Least I don’t just chat shit
Like all you boring rappers
Least I don’t, what?
Least I don’t just lie in my raps
Half the UK scene just cap for the kids
Had to squeeze a bar out
Fuckin’ hell
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