Pigga (sometimes spelled piggah, pigger) is Polish white nigga, or wigga. Generally speaking they're the Yukka Brothers, the wannabe niggaz of hip hop culture.

Piggaz wear baggy clothes with crotch between the ankles, hoods, massive keychains (that could be well used for hobbling cows) etc. Clothes they wear, language they use and music they play are but cheap local imitation of cool stuff that bona-fide genuine US black folk rappers use. In addition, garments must be worn-out and in bizarre colours faded from washing it too many times. Each piece of clothing must have a cheap, hilarious and oversized picture of (some say) their mother in the form of medieval monsters, pittbulls and other creatures that inhabit their childhood dreams. The style of their apparel, music and language represent the style of rural high-school wannabe hip hop light years back from now.

Thus a pigga is always behind, always mediocre, always emergency lane, behind and far away from the mainstream of today's hip hop. While black nigga rapper must wear gold, drive BigMac sized pimpmobile, be - well - black and (speaking of BigMacs) big and fat (or at least big, muscular whopper), piggaz are the opposite. Not only don't they wear quality clothes, but they lack the overwhelming physical appearance of real rappers. Polish wiggaz are skinny, with a protruding adam's apple and too tall to keep straight. When they "rap" they usually sway, do things with their hands like their idols in 1990s and sport cretin hairdo reminiscent of the peak of Vanilla Ice career.

They drive VW Golfs, BMWs and Opel Cadets that were made between US withdrawal from Vietnam and Watergate. Cramped six or seven slim guys in a peanut-size vehicle with windows spraypainted black (to save money and add appeal) they play Polish hip hop at max volume so that distorted and overdriven speakers sound like a mad pittbull.

Wannabe niggaz from Poland are well-aware of their retardation and some of them counteract their "always behind" attitude by calling their mothers, sisters and girlfriends b****ez (which they might be), their housing estates ghettos and producing fake life stories of gang-in-ghetto- to-being-gang-banged-at-Wronki (Polish Joliet) to-fame-but-not-forgetting-their-roots. Some go as far as eating perogis (delicious cooked or fried pastries) in extent to grow fat, rubbing black or dark brown shoe polish in their skin (to look black) and soaking their mouth in condensed chlorine bleach (to develop swells resembling fat lips black folks have).

Linguistic analysis of the lyrics shows low IQ of the authors, extensive cliche goo of mental pictures, ghetto terms and behaviour that have no use or background in Poland. You can hear them speak of ghetto, gangs, phat cars none of which they saw. Like the chains they wear are not gold but rusty steel, plus they don't wear them as jewelery but utility item to hold the keys to their mom-and-pops flat in a concrete block-of-flats built in 1960s as cheap housing for post-war Poland. Subjects covered include sex life, mending VWs, hating parents and girls and other unimportant matters they choose as the core of their low life.

Music is yet another cliche and imitation. Played using shareware or pirated PC software or Casio kiddy-workstations. Drums and bassline reveal more about the depths of their empty heads: hardly anyone uses more than two or three buttons on their fourth-hand donka-matics and software 808s.