Verdansk Lyrics by Dave is latest English song with music also given by Daniel Vasev. Verdansk song lyrics are written by David Orobosa Omoregie, Kyle Evans.
Verdansk Song Detail
| Song Name: | Verdansk |
| Singer: | Dave |
| Composer: | Daniel Vasev |
| Lyrics by: | David Orobosa Omoregie, Kyle Evans |
Verdansk Lyrics
Just had to kick a chick out of the studio, s**t’s nuts, fam
Hahahaha
I like kyle’s words, fam, the truth is madder than fiction, fam
It’s nuts out here
Oi, ayy, write that s**t 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 lane, we don’t know ’bout 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 ni**a 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’ve worked ’cause the girl too stubborn
Young g’s talking my name in 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
In the 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 brownin’ 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 mans 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 lane, we don’t know ’bout 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 ni**a 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