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letra de tactics - digdat

[intro]
when we step ’round there, set piece
i swear me and bro did tactics
creased up twenties and tens in plastic
got them in thick elastics

[chorus]
when we step ’round there, set piece
i swear me and bro did tactics
creased up twenties and tens in plastic
got them in thick elastics
i was goin’ sleep on a blue mat
coming like i was just doing gymnastics
she was like, “digs, how you do that?”
i’m young with a drip, not broke and average

[verse]
but way back when i shoulda been home
i was in the alley with fiends
and you ain’t got t–th for the pole
he’s only got one like nanny mcphee
designer clothes, italian jeans
every day i’m happy, it seems
and i swear dis bally was clean
’til i started to sweat
now it’s damp off steam
i just send it all up, and came back down
spend all of my worth on this dust
i know i’m gonna make back pounds
but if i put it all in a bowl
you know i’m gonna scr-pe that ’round
this leng ting callin’ me, “bro”
i told her to take dat down
mu–mulla, mulla, cake
coulda, shoulda hit jummah and prayed
do street with my hood up in rain
give lip, air max push foot up in face
and i still got this jooker in case
them hookers, they just give brain
mash work, go look up my name
old school like kunta kinte
wanna link plug, then hook up with bae
mm got the dark in wraps, trap mash
mk got cubba in flakes
my trees are black or blue
no chee, no, don’t like the budder in beige
ti, that’s my broski bloodline
on that, i swear i’m gon’ pull on mains (boo-baw)
i don’t even want you to break it
just taste it, now she’s full up off brain
if i just back this ting
then i might just wap it and split mans face
already told them why i can’t rave
’cause my blade sets off the detector
i just done a o trip ‘pon train
and i didn’t even see the inspector
why they always tell me i’m extra?
why? ’cause i’m bringing up things i remember
seen close friends turn to opps
that’s a lesson learnt, not a loss (no l’s)
seen too many doors in the seg’
i was all over the map
and so many times i hurt my leg
just tryna kick open the flat
now this side boo tryna be baby
how can you blame me if i don’t want it?
fresh fade under my hood
and lately, everything i smoke’s exotic
just scr-pe this bowl, let’s lock it
i got a place you can go and chop it?
but he ain’t gonna bag it ’til later
the slates so sandy
i just got brandy sand on the trainer
you know that’s paraphernalia
i used to make noodles in the kettle
hard times, didn’t have a container
and i would’ve put a ring on this money
that’s if i could’ve married this paper (that’s my boo)

- digdat

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