Dig It Fresh by Trigue Lyrics
Hook
What up son, can you feel combustion?/
When I come to touch one, we counting down next/
Never one to rush one, let it build, eruption/
Kill your old customs, dig it fresh/
Verse 1 - Trigue
I curse a lot/ I’m fucking sorry/
In the entourage I’m Ari, in the city on Safari/
Taking puffs of Rastafari, cause fuck it, it was my birthday/
Dipping through the party, still fly on my worst day/
Had a couple bad ones, toast to the good times/
Cross out the trash ones, highlight the good rhymes/
Welcome to the process, emcees are lazy/
Mumbling on the mic, your magic tricks they don’t amaze me/
I speak in tongues, like I just got saved/
And I make the rain fall when I step in the name of/
Killing in the name of love, moron, oxy/
Like cold fire or dressing up to be down/
Ain’t no uniform for this/
So forget my form before I’m forced to shapeshift/
The box I don’t fit, and not the circle either/
I’ve just begun to spit, I do not need a breather/
My goal in this shit, as a raw public speaker/
Is to take every risk when I’m mixing in my beaker/
Mad scientist, lion king sniffing for a lioness/
To braid my mane and back me up through the violence/
Vileness, never getting tired from the mileage/
Grown man, graduated past all the child shit/
Check my nut hairs if you’re inquiring/
Multi-faceted, product of my environment/
Verse 2 - Vijay
Never been a fucking model citizen/
Music ain’t been hot but the flame’s rekindling/
Burning down your huts and the village-men, killing them/
Y’all wanna eat with no pilgrimage, well gargle this cinnamon/
Mixed with a little hint of Ritalin/
You ain’t a mack without the cheese and the chickenheads/
So what that means if you’re listening/
A pimp ain’t shit without his green and his women friends/
Verse 3 - Trigue
Women friends, casually known as bitches, excuse my inconsistence/
Let pose for a couple pictures in this shiny grimy business/
You cannot afford to miss it, miss what, your shot mister sniper/
There’s a shooter out there trying to rip it/
Best believe I’m gimmick-less, limitless, less of all the bull-mess/
You talk about gats you a tool chest, sonny/
I’m a true test, dummy, nothing moves but the money/
So I’m learning how to sprint like a dollar do/
Verse 4 - Vijay
Hold on, dollar do, Trigue, let me holler at you/
If life is a beach, then I think I dig Malibu/
Here is a thought or two, no matter how you selling it/
Won’t be heard if you’re not ear-rellevant/
Soul, never selling it, that’s what I’m telling kids/
And never use God’s gift for the hell of it/
Know I’m authentic, you can see it in my melanin/
And I’m going postal and no I’m not mailing it, gone/
Verse 5 - Trigue
Gone but not forgotten, so sweet never rotten/
I could tuck on an option or drop back and spot ‘em/
Never had it easy, so of course I am a problem/
It’s happy hour, fuck it I’m on/
Hook
What up son, can you feel combustion?/
When I come to touch one, we counting down next/
Never one to rush one, let it build, eruption/
Kill your old customs, dig it fresh/
Verse 1 - Trigue
I curse a lot/ I’m fucking sorry/
In the entourage I’m Ari, in the city on Safari/
Taking puffs of Rastafari, cause fuck it, it was my birthday/
Dipping through the party, still fly on my worst day/
Had a couple bad ones, toast to the good times/
Cross out the trash ones, highlight the good rhymes/
Welcome to the process, emcees are lazy/
Mumbling on the mic, your magic tricks they don’t amaze me/
I speak in tongues, like I just got saved/
And I make the rain fall when I step in the name of/
Killing in the name of love, moron, oxy/
Like cold fire or dressing up to be down/
Ain’t no uniform for this/
So forget my form before I’m forced to shapeshift/
The box I don’t fit, and not the circle either/
I’ve just begun to spit, I do not need a breather/
My goal in this shit, as a raw public speaker/
Is to take every risk when I’m mixing in my beaker/
Mad scientist, lion king sniffing for a lioness/
To braid my mane and back me up through the violence/
Vileness, never getting tired from the mileage/
Grown man, graduated past all the child shit/
Check my nut hairs if you’re inquiring/
Multi-faceted, product of my environment/
Verse 2 - Vijay
Never been a fucking model citizen/
Music ain’t been hot but the flame’s rekindling/
Burning down your huts and the village-men, killing them/
Y’all wanna eat with no pilgrimage, well gargle this cinnamon/
Mixed with a little hint of Ritalin/
You ain’t a mack without the cheese and the chickenheads/
So what that means if you’re listening/
A pimp ain’t shit without his green and his women friends/
Verse 3 - Trigue
Women friends, casually known as bitches, excuse my inconsistence/
Let pose for a couple pictures in this shiny grimy business/
You cannot afford to miss it, miss what, your shot mister sniper/
There’s a shooter out there trying to rip it/
Best believe I’m gimmick-less, limitless, less of all the bull-mess/
You talk about gats you a tool chest, sonny/
I’m a true test, dummy, nothing moves but the money/
So I’m learning how to sprint like a dollar do/
Verse 4 - Vijay
Hold on, dollar do, Trigue, let me holler at you/
If life is a beach, then I think I dig Malibu/
Here is a thought or two, no matter how you selling it/
Won’t be heard if you’re not ear-rellevant/
Soul, never selling it, that’s what I’m telling kids/
And never use God’s gift for the hell of it/
Know I’m authentic, you can see it in my melanin/
And I’m going postal and no I’m not mailing it, gone/
Verse 5 - Trigue
Gone but not forgotten, so sweet never rotten/
I could tuck on an option or drop back and spot ‘em/
Never had it easy, so of course I am a problem/
It’s happy hour, fuck it I’m on/
Hook