Country Dons – Daily Duppy Lyrics ft. GRM Daily

Daily Duppy Lyrics By Country Dons ft. GRM Daily

Yo, I think it’s crazy how it’s the closest ones ’round you that wan’ take you out
See, you know, I’m on the ball just like I’m Mason Mount
Sexy girl, she think I’m famous, so she’ll shake it down
I gotta give it to her
Before the rap, before the fame, before the Insta likes
Before you think about plottin’, now, I got it like I’m Wesley Snipes
Three 15th for the dinger, they bring nuttin’ but an engine light
Lil’ bro ain’t got it, it ain’t nuttin’ like I lend him mine

To you, she hella nice
To me, she ain’t even my type
Walter White, I pin a lab, you know, I gotta get it right
Trappers on the radio, we used to get stereotyped
So many flights, you would’ve thought the feds try extra diet
A cat tried rob my bro
There weren’t no extra lives
Eighteen when they locked him
When his homies be like 55
I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired

If there’s an intention then I’ll fence it with this blicky knife
I will keep it real
Talk on my bruddas that are grindin’, man, I see you still
Remember bein’ broke and nuttin’ left like Ian Beale?
I told my bro “Go get this money, you don’t need to drill”
Ironic, we got all this ice ‘cah I got zero chill
Both wrist quarter mill’
Necklace, water still
Netflix and Chill, that ain’t workin’ with your sex appeal
I’m just gettin’ money, gettin’ lit
The opps are gettin’ drilled
Told my custom “If you’re buyin’ more then you might get a deal”

They say “Lovin’ get you killed,” so I don’t show it much
And I can’t even trust myself
Let alone, show you trust
We just get these bricks and they mash ’em like a builder does
The fans dem are feelin’ us
The streets, it was feedin’ us
Drugs got me fucked, now, I don’t feel like I can dream enough
And if the lando ring to the trap, go clean it up
OT trips, yeah, I been enough
A middleman, a ting, fuck a trim, but I need a cut
To the money, sweep, sweep, sweep it up
Take it rich is a must

Remember days bein’ broke, and I was runnin’ for the bus?
Now, it’s GLE, AMG, the engine’s on crud
And I’m loyal to the soil, I won’t crumble under pressure
And I put that on my blood
You’re either one of them, or you either one of us
But if I see you with them pussies
Then you better Donald Duck
And I’m hated by many like Donald Trump
I don’t give a fuck
And how they chattin’ ’bout this tizzy?
They ain’t seen a weigh

My akhy’s takin’ ten up, schedule, there’ll be seven days
I’m knockin’ out these boxers, call me David Haye
Like we some heavyweights
We tryna make this income in several ways
It’s Cali zoot and Dior for my fragrance
It’s Louis V when I’m steppin’ on these pavements
And from a Z to a box to a basement
My young dargs really bark, we can’t tame them

The name’s Blaze, and I don’t do verbal
Two shanks on me like a Ninja Turtle
Old friends turn square, dropped them out my circle
This bitch said I’m cold, maybe I need some formals
My plug’s always workin’, it’s universal
You think I got here without jumpin’ any hurdles
My shqipez got big waps, talk tough, they like to murder
Can’t ring the line for food unless they been referred
I was a London yute then mum moved me out to cunch
The rest is history, you can see we get our funds
Couple bad bitches, and I tell ’em “Use your tongue”

How many times did we jump out and they run?
I did it for my family, I’m not stoppin’ ’til I’m done
Diamonds on us, we really came off up these crumbs
Can’t trust no one, so we bought a couple guns
Straight cunch shit, and I do it for my dons
I ride, spy the feds everyday, it ain’t a joke
The council don’t like me, think they heard that we got smoke
Someone gets touched, hands off, I ain’t involved
My young whizz is cast a spell then he uses his coat
Allegations from my neighbours, they won’t let me live
Everybody hatin’, they’d rather see me in a ditch
When I pull up with my CD’s, everytime, we lookin’ lit
Girl with that big back, park your bunda right on this

I love mine, no regrets for this life I live
Call me Jackie Chan in the bando when I’m choppin’ bricks
And how the other side talkin’ bands, but they shoplift?
This whole game’s fucked, and I clocked it
I told my akhy Rams “Yo, we’ve got this”
I’m Balotelli in the field ‘cah I’m only scorin’ top bins
You know I fuck her so good
I make her feel it in her toxics
The feds them are watchin’, tryna get us boxed in

Ay, Boxing Day, it’s only right we get us a boxin’
Promote it to the streets, you can call me Country Don king
40 for a key, and you know I ain’t a locksmith
So lit, might turn a protest to a moshpit
So G’d up like Golovkin
Haven’t dropped a track in a while
We got the fans wonderin’
Are they bagged? Have they stopped? Nah, we hustlin’
Before he took my name, check your hair like Carls

I surf shots with no topspin
M-way trips, six fed cars, had your brother boxed in
Lucky I weren’t walkin’ out the trap with the crops in
They got my jewels, ain’t nuttin’, I ain’t stoppin’
It really feels like I’m Hampshire’s Hottest
Feds outside my drum, they be watchin’ with binoculars
See, I told you babe that I’m popular
You can’t get close to my yard
Every room’s got a monitor

Yo, Maroc this, Maroc that like I don’t give a fuck
The 36 from the T, it had me really livin’ up
You can get your chest pumped, or get your tummy tucked
I’m tryna double up, I pull up in a bendy truck
Fuck her so right, I make her fall in love
I’m in the trap, tryna fly these doves
No Lest’ ting, came for the show, in the club
If you even think I’m turnin’ up
I’m on the stay, young G’s got the poke, it’s tucked

And we ain’t givin’ up until you find enough
This wap ain’t from Call of Duty
Brain know it, Pack-A-Punch
Bro’s fresh home, got his biceps like a camel hump
Done takin’ niggas, givin’ half when they final month
Backshots, give her backstrokes, show her stamina
Hold there, stay right there, I’ll get my camera
I’ve been trappin’ every single day, that’s on the calendar
I’ve been workin’ hard all through the night just like I’m Dracula

We really puttin’ on our team
Waps, food, anything you need
Ayo, baby girl, come and let me make you cream
I’m a Country Don gettin’ money, I can make your dreams
Only wear Amiris if I’m walkin’ in some jeans
Gucci, Fendi, anything I please
Only show me respect ’cause they see me in the streets
But if my bro wants to ride then they see me in that seat