Day By Day

Nahh Forreal
Ha, Nahh Forreal
Pump up the jam
While your feet is stomping
Pussy niggas better keep running
G-Lock and you know it keep dumping

Ghost gun, It might jam but I'm taking that risk
I'm a hop that car with my gun or fist
I'm a send him a message, Why the fuck would I diss
If he thinking shit sweet, Check his name off the list
If he using his feet then he better keep running
If I'm using my feet then you know I keep stomping
Bout to fuck up this beat cause you know this shit bumping
Bitch I started with nothing, I turned it to something

It get hot in the kitchen, you know that I'm cooking
If I get me a check, Take a trip out to Brooklyn
If he flexing a bag then you know it get took
Nigga fast on his feet, Man you know he be booking
I get caught in that jam and you know I'm a hit it
12 hopped on my line, Bitch you know that I kicked it
If I get me a bag then you know I'm a flip it
If I get me a stick then you know I'm a dip it

Ahhh, Nahh Forreal
Look and Hear, The crowd is jumping
Pump it up
Run it up
One him up,
You know he fucked

Throw the right and the left like a nigga name Rocky
Still tight with my stick, Walking round with the glocky
Said I can't go to where, Who the fuck finna stop me
Dirtyy Quig too official, How the fuck can you copy
If he copy and paste then you know he get cut
And that nigga he pussy, You know he get fucked
If I up with this bitch, Better run, Better duck
If he ducked all them shots then you know that shit luck

Pump up the jam (Pump it up, Pump it up)
While your feet is stomping
Pussy nigga better keep running
G-Lock and you know it keep dumping
If he running then he better not stop
All these bird ass niggas, Man you know they going flock
If bruh ready to roll then you know I'm a rock
And I'm loving that sound when the glock pop his top

Ghost gun it jammed, jammed, jammed
Gotta nigga like damn, damn, damn,
So I chop him like lamb, lamb, lamb (Nahh Forreal he get cut up like a lamb chop)

Trey five seven fill him up with some holes
Put that heat on his ass, Leave a fuck nigga cold
If he typing in italics then we spinning in bold
I got caught in that jam, Swear to God I ain't fold
Bitch I'm going for the win, Bitch I'm going for the score
If she say she going leave then bitch there go the door
Put my y's to the sky, Put my two's to the floor
Fuck with me and my bro, Swear that bitch, She a whore

Tell a nigga don't run, Tell a nigga don't trip
I ain't running from shit, You can suck my dick
Shooting more than some clips
If you play, You get ripped
Up this bitch from my hip, Taylor Port I'm a sip (Uh)

Pump up the jam, So I know that you feel
Got the cards in my hand, So you know I'm a deal it
When I hop on the beat, Bitch you know I'm a kill it
Bitch, Waddup

Pump it up a lil bit more
Gotta five and it come after four
Make a right when you get to the store
Make a left when you get to that light
And they say I'm living wrong but you know I'm moving right
Gotta big ass gun and it came with a sight
Bitch you flexing them guns but I know you ain't tight
Just cause you gotta stick, Don't mean you going shoot
If I hop out the car, Bitch you know I'm a oot
Put his hands in the air, Make him give up the loot
If you say it's a problem, Let's get to the root

If I pop out that cut, I'm trying get that nigga
Clip that nigga, Forty going flip that nigga, Whip that nigga
In a box we going ship that nigga, Rip that nigga (Nahh Forreal I'm telling you)

Uh, Uh Day by Day
Uh, Uh Day by Day
Uh, Uh Day by Day
Uh, Uh Day by Day



Credits
Writer(s): Dirtyy Quig
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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