Lyrics DigDat – Friday
Text:
Kenny Allstar & (DigDat):
I know they didn’t take me serious, when I said I’m in this game ten albums deep, no less
Ghosty
On God, I’m just warming
And it all started from the 8
DigDat
(I can hit that block with ten shots but I think I might make more off deals
Got my raincoat on with this Rambo incase I ain’t got no sword or shields
Can’t bring her to the yard, she’s catty and that one had no bra
Fur on my coat’s from Canada)
Had me in court so my head looked pickier, swear I was banking my TEC wth Nivea
Sword on my hip, swing it like Jedi, all VV’s, no SI’s
S just done up a G pack and I know two young boys that’ll work it
Had to put my trap on EE, back then my Lyca couldn’t get service
Friday I should’ve went Jummah, head out my window, doing all nighters
Woke up, I was on the yard doing pull ups in sliders, me and them lifers
With my big box TV, no controller, I couldn’t even swap that channel
T’ump off your lip with my fist, now he’s pissed cah he gotta wash it off with a flannel
Free all my friends that I lost in battle
Weren’t no fist fights, sticks, don’t grapple, swinging my arms in chapel
Hundred bands at eighteen, never went mainstream, my teacher’s baffled
Hair down, head band, eyebrows, turn up, came with her eyelash done up
He tried run in his Forces, tripped, then we bored him, tearing up North Face
Kick down doors in the morning, catch man eating his Corn flakes
I can hit that block with ten shots but I think I might make more off deals
Got my raincoat on with this Rambo incase I ain’t got no sword or shields
In my young days, double tap flickys, try put them right in fully
When I had two twin blades like Boondocks, name one Riley or Huey
This pretty little thing so ratchet, peng one belt and her bag come matching
See me with a watch and chain, flush them packs and block that drain
How many times did I hop that train?
In the trap, took naps like Pampers, she ain’t from Catford, qway like Ashford
Clip in my AP, twist this backwards, mad how we came from Aquas
Hiding my face from cameras, when I should’ve went and prayed at masjid
Can’t bring her to the yard, she’s catty and that one had no bra
Flavours come from Cali, fur on my coat’s from Canada
You know I didn’t beat that case, I can’t shout out my barrister
Know that my Buj runs black on foil, I’m burning it light and it comes back oil
She was like «Digs, how you feelin’?», I might go and put a bag on my bugs
Spray this O pot teethin’, then test this wap in the woods
And if it runs black, it’s good, liquorice papers, wraps of Buj
Different razors, get that cooked
Do a 3-5-0 like my Yeezy, done with the scale, just took that pack off
Now I’m at the sink, press down on the hand wash, tryna rinse all this sand off
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