Digga D - 6+4 Lyrics


M1OnTheBeat
What’s that, Cali?

In the studio with bro, smoking chro’ and it’s Cali
If the cats weren’t careful of the obbo, use a bally
White tee on, moving John Wayne with the swammy
Two-on-two at the Tesco, three-on-three at the alley
.44s in a bag, half a B with the strali
Five-Five dusty inches when he flinches from the sammy
Six 6s, I was 7+, seven with the ammi
All facts, bro, had to bank it up like it was Hali’
She came to my crib for a session, came West for the wood
She ain’t shy, takes Charlie for the nose, the coke’s good
I just hope that it’s the same when I wash it and it should
Cah if not, I ain’t putting mediocre in my hood
When I’m playing with the yola, baking soda, let it cook
Real pain, no shame, I heard you’re nyaming out the puss’
I put white in my city, I’m a shepherd in a bush
Push a suttin’ in your tee, bleached the flicky, stay shush
I don’t know about college no more
Straight cash, had to catch up like Heinz
Left a banger in the mash
In the pen like ink
In the bin like trash
If the buj come in good, mix the buj with the bash
Roll it up, lemme light it, no diet
Feelin’ frass, I won’t rise it
I’m not fryin’, no lyin’
I’ma crash, I’ma crash
Dead it like a zoot, hit a roach, leavin’ ash

Ring, ring, that’s Alan that’s bellin’ me
«Yo, Alan, what you tellin’ me?»
More time that nigga scorin’ like a penalty
Six-on-four, no shots, that’s seventy
Six-on-four, no shots, that’s seventy
Six-on-four, no shots, that’s seventy
Six-on-four, no shots, that’s seventy
Six-on-four, no shots, that’s seventy

Just got a shot for a two and a daughter
Come a long way from a quarter
Just came money, cash, P’s on a corner
Just put thirty grams of mag’ on a four now
Could’ve put forty, didn’t wanna stretch it
Light though, man’s still happy with the Z bit
Could’ve just pebbed it
Dropped it on my nigga for a rack
I ain’t runnin’ him down, just hit me when you got the scratch
Far from rich, twenty quid in the crib
Eighteen, three chains, two sticks
One score, five jibs, two clips
.44, three stacks and it kicks
OT drop packs, two trips
Went jail, took an L, went six bags down
Done a year came out, on the search for a town
Lemme just turn on my Grove ting
In one week, made it do a stack a day, no boastin’
Don’t rate the olders, they ain’t got waps
Consiged few and never saw my shit back, tramps
Lesson learned, not a loss
Went four bags down the other day
But I firmed it like a boss
I’m ain’t boxing like McGregor, I’m a Freddie, leave ’em pourin’
If the Taurus hits him, even Jah won’t cure him
Told the driver don’t stop, there’s too much buju in the foreign
In the Benz like Spragga, smokin’ chronics and we tourin’

M1OnTheBeat


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