Lyrics Silian Braille - The Purist, CASisDEAD, Cas

Silian Braille

I get piff from The Purist
My sniff is the purest
One thing that’s the surest
You will get bumped like a tourist
London, grey skies
I touch road from morning
Dark clouds are forming
And the dope fiends are swarming
Police come without warning
Residents informing cause their neighbours keep scoring
And the blocks all smell appalling
Mad roaches crawling
I ain’t balling
I’m 8 Ballin
I’m yet to go all in
But see that might change if these prices keep falling
And these clients keep calling
Top gear no stalling
These dumb niggas I’m schooling
Ruling
No snap-backs just black bags and backpacks
Envelopes with white powder
But nah, it’s not anthrax
Running out
Hit Badger up and see if he has that
Not long link up
Exchange stock NASDAQ
My syntax too abstract
But most man wouldn’t catch that
My contact got A. Cs
Their dropping in Halifax
If the bitch try to backtrack
Swear down she’ll get slapped
Right outside that bank fam
Give a fuck clap that
WRAPS in my vans
Cracks in my hands
I ain’t got no future
No long-term plans
Pyrex and teflon
Dutch pots and pans
It’s all grams and grands
Snots coming out my glands
WRAPS in my vans
Cracks in my hands
I ain’t got no future
No long-term plans
Hour glass near empty
Running out of sand
I’m talking to the devil
Cause he understands
Half ounce in my satchel
All stories factual
All stories actual
Accounts is so casual
Bet yet so tactful
How I glamourise their tales of powder and capsules
Drugs I got a sackful
Mouth full
Cracks like I’m chewing on fruit pastels
So brash not bashful
Got cash cause I’m holding
More weight than both axels
Just seems so rational
More horse than the grand national
From Cheshunt to Chester
Getting that Red Lester
Since way back when
You though Kane was a wrestler
I was on that trap shit
I don’t let my food fester
On the ball like Iniesta
Lunch at the Dorchester
Feds move so messed up
When I’m in court all dressed up
5 years for coke but 2 for a child molester
Fuck it though
I don’t rest, no Siesta
Got a meeting up west
To impress an investor
WRAPS in my vans
Cracks in my hands
I ain’t got no future
No long-term plans
Pyrex and teflon
Dutch pots and pans
It’s all grams and grands
Snots coming out my glands
WRAPS in my vans
Cracks in my hands
I ain’t got no future
No long-term plans
Hour glass near empty
Running out of sand
I’m talking to the devil
Cause he understands