Lyrics Friday - Kenny Allstar, DigDat

Friday

Ghosty
On God, I’m just warming
How can they let us go from being one of the hottest in the streets,
to one of the hottest in the game
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
In case 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 tech' with 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
I 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, Digs' don’t grapple
Swinging my arms in chapel
Hundred bands at eighteen
Never went mainstream, my teacher’s baffled
Hair down, head band, eyebrows, tun' 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 cornflake
I can hit that block with ten shots
But I think I might make more off deals
Got my raincoat on with this Rambo
In case 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
And she used to act brand new
But wanna fuck now so a lot just changed
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 boogs
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
The Voice of the Streets