Verdansk - Dave

It’s nuts out here

(Oi, ayy, write that shit down)

Look

I see a ting that I touched, tell me about talkin' stage, gotta tell her «Don't force it»

Beef man, pepper and salt it, me and RJ gotta pull up, no talkin'

Trap, you ain’t got a rack to your name, my bro brick layin', we don’t know

about Shoreditch

Rental, I never insured it, M25, gotta whip that calmly

Man try beef with my dargy, Warzone ting how I come third party

My little nigga can’t lose that cash, I drop YGs, do it like Kehlani

I don’t rock Gucci or Armani, ST from ST, I can’t

Squash that beef like fruit and barley, still got a one black star like Kwame

Three car convoy in Sutton, my mum got matching whips with Yungen

Should’ve made Shanei hold on suttin' but it never would’v worked 'cause the

girl too stubborn

Young G’s talking my nam on the Ends

Gotta tell a man «Please don’t risk it»

On a right day, man ah just frisk him

On a wrong day, I’m gettin' man airlifted

I’m in Hollywood Hills with a white Rolls Royce

And a one brownin' from Compton

The Lambo parked just in front

Man pull up to the bumper and do it like Konshens

She wanna go LV, no problem

Went for the cheapest bag, that’s nonsense

I took a hundred bags from Barclays bank

No cap, you can go and ask Ellie

That one mine, Bouncing Betty

The bag 4K, like a HD telly

Best believe that I’m back like Nelly

Chest petite with a back like jelly

I’m seein' man send indirects

If you wanna war man then you better be vocal

My right hand got a semi, that’s local

And this Browning, I can’t post on socials

My girl gotta be far from social, I don’t wanna see her at Carni

Four-double-eight in the party, LBC how I nicked the Ferrari

Girls say we’re the littiest batch in South London and, bro, it’s a fact

Airport, we’re going for bants, I hopped out the plane, I ain’t going Verdansk

What you know about telling a 10/10 to keep her clothes on and moving good?

I ain’t on beating or misogyny, it’s mahogany, I got bougie wood

Look, Airbnb with the guys, it’s a white man’s face that I use to book

Chill with the stupid looks or it’s gonna be a kettle that I use to cook

I see a ting that I touched, tell me about talkin' stage, gotta tell her «Don't force it»

Beef man, pepper and salt it, me and RJ gotta pull up, no talkin'

Trap, you ain’t got a rack to your name, my bro brick layin', we don’t know

about Shoreditch

Rental, I never insured it, M25, gotta whip that calmly

Man try beef with my dargy, Warzone ting how I come third party

My little nigga can’t lose that cash, I drop YGs, do it like Kehlani

I don’t rock Gucci or Armani, ST from ST, I can’t

Squash that beef like fruit and barley, still got a one black star like—