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digdat - sales & joints lyrics
[chorus]
pack in my gucci man bag and i still wear louis and louis
m got a stick like grandad, bro tapped like stewie
make sure my scale’s on point, turn them on then off
sales and joints, maximum prof, soft, turn it rock in a pot
stepped in looking all fly, high like digs how you do that?
hear the sound if i ring this burner, loud like the pitch in nou camp
i think broski scored that winner, they ain’t got a lot of time left on
she a cocoa one vanilla, cool you ain’t gotta be shy it’s long
[verse]
it’s healthy look at this scale
thick lv grab on my belt
she just wanna plait my hair
i let her do that cos she patterns it well
i’m still there managing sales
gotta get rid of this package by twelve
come a long way from travelling sales
this time last year sat up in felts
serving i get too trappy
bro that’s as soon as i wake up
wait that’s a three bill tracky
bae better mind her make up
i done jail with bro bro
and we still got all of them nickings
patty said i don’t want beef
put him on the wing that boy turned chicken
this one thinks she’s boo
stop telling my friends you’re wifey
and everything i wear is new
nothing worn twice, even my nikes
peng flake got tt, trap get paid straight off ee
peng flake got tt, trap get paid straight off ee
dinger, 125 i’m revving
grind in a trackie and 97’s
i ain’t had lunch cos my line keeps belling
them gyal blush anytime we step in
one hand in my glove
money on me, bro good that’s love
load six shots in the snub
it’s a see-saw ting when the kickback jumps
took five years gone, quick setback
i was thirteen, white gold on my neck back
what you know about sitting in the cell
hand digging through sh-t just to get your tec back
my paper plane got me jet lagged
old school i was going halves on a ten bag
sh-t then, should’ve dodged that fed van
walk with the ting on the wing in my neck bag
still blow am, not cheese or cess fam
had no canteen, that’s red stamp
so just leave me a text on the lyca
soon come pcx i’m a rider
hit a sale, quick 10s and a fiver
ruby helmet, pull up my visor
ring shawty, do a all nighter
lox with the toolie, he ain’t no fighter
[chorus]
pack in my gucci man bag and i still wear louis and louis
m got a stick like grandad, bro tapped like stewie
make sure my scale’s on point, turn them on then off
sales and joints, maximum prof, soft, turn it rock in a pot
stepped in looking all fly, high like digs how you do that?
hear the sound if i ring this burner, loud like the pitch in nou camp
i think broski scored that winner, they ain’t got a lot of time left on
she a cocoa one vanilla, cool you ain’t gotta be shy it’s long
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