“Daily Duppy” Abra Cadabra Lyrics


Drop what your doing, AB’s back with another one
Still got niggas in the field doing marathons
Ain’t been long since a nigga put the bally on
My nigga made racks off a booting, they can’t banter us
They shoulda known better, even though the gang full of go getters
Still put holes in broke fellas
Get your bread up clappin’ dats, cah the chain diamonds dancing like some skets in the rave tryna get bread up
See no evil, hear no evil, I still bang on the opps, tryna feed my peoples
I can tell you ’bout times I put hands on a pirate
Me and BK stamped the fuck out that prick, he was lacking
Can’t tell you ’bout times that I whipped in the Pyrex
I was beating off doors like I worked with the Trident
Fuck police, got my peoples on the wing with the lifers
I still walk with my ting, I ain’t losing my life
Anyting shh, when a wrist punch
You buss your gun how much times, where you hit fums?
Anyting or anyting, shotty in the whip punk
Kweff man, might haffi dash dat away like a gyal that I hit once
Frogz said the opps getting faster, I haffi start start gyming
Lord save all the hoes and the Barbies in it
I might forget the cardio, go spot her then give the D cah she looking fine like a parking ticket
Back now, gotta put my stamp down, fam I got a rack for every pussy that I stamped out
Still in the fields like the grass in the pavements in the blocks, in the farm, you can’t doubt my badness
Fam I never put no yola in the pot
Fam I never got to make it to the top, I was a worker
How you think the OT spots got jerk up?
Know from the fucking behavior, I was the worst cuz
Mans famous, and I’m still in the fields that’s dangerous
But fuck it, man I always got my stainless even if I get touched, my bros will defo leave your strip taped up
Anytime we got corn for your head back
When we hit the target, straight neck, chest, back
Back the fuck up, when you hear me say “get back”
Pussy I got suttin’ you don’t wanna test fam
We some different type of gangsters
I had a metal in my trackie, baby girl felt the steel when she tried to grab my balls
I had to put it to the side like it’s all cool
She already know what I go through
How they gonna beef me?
Darg I got racks to my name, my PRS, that’s mashes for days, but I’m fucked cos of fame
Or I might sponsor my likkle young buck from the block and make him clap out your brain
I ain’t blessing no beef, I got one or two guys I need to bleed in these streets
Fuck what you heard darg, man still eat
Everything I’m leaving off these music P’s
On the roads when you see me, don’t run
Lord knows I’ll be right behind you, tryna push my rambo in your back, then I’m gone
This ain’t no joke, I got it most times so it’s long
That’s seventeen inches for a bludclart opp
I got opps tryna hand in the towel
See them in church and dat, man doing gospel rap
Let me not talk, better have his bible on the roads cah I’mma lift his clart
Must think I’m a madman
Worldwide artist, banging on paigons, I must be a wastemen
Your favourite rappers really living a lie
Don’t compare me and him, cah I got reasons to ride
I don’t know what I want no more, money ain’t a issue, I ain’t broke no more
I’m performing for the fans, just got a round of applause
Little nigga, I done seen shit happen to me in movies that I saw
Like remember Like Mike when he stepped onto the court?
That was me at the MOBO’s
Who woulda thought free Wize?
He saw me, I could it really make it through the door
Believe a couple months later, I was picking up awards
And I ain’t seen shit that I never thought I’d never see before
Pree this, now the kids worth bricks of the raw
I never practiced none of this, have you showed dem how it is?
How we live, how we runnin’ up in cribs with the striz
Word to gangsters, a war in north and guess what? It’s reality
They took Kobi and Neesha and caused a tragedy
How you gon’ blame us for wanting to cause casualties?
I laughed when that prick died, now couple bitches mad at me
Fuck status, everyone’s got guns now
I’m tryna put a pool in my mums house
Banging on the opps same way with racks in my bank account, I can never allow dem
Good in my hood, who says I’m not?
Verbal ain’t corn, I cut him dead on the spot
Plus the length on my ting, that’s 17 inch
You don’t wanna piss me off, I put 13 in
I’m worth more than all of dem bludclart yutes on that bludclart block, have some bludclart manners, pussy
Your boy got bun and your boy got bun, the other boy got bun, where’s your hammers?
Don’t compare me to these broke yutes, only worth a gold tooth, my dog costs more than your outfit
And I’m always ’bout the action, just me and the sammi like Skat, you don’t wanna see me clap this shit