paroles de chanson Silian Braille - CASISDEAD

Yeah
Cas
Ah

I get piff from The Purist
My sniff is the purest
One thing that's for sure is
You'll get bumped like a tourist (ha)
London, grey skies
Yeah, I touch road from morning
Dark clouds are forming (yeah)
And the dope fiends are swarming
Police come without warning (slangs)
Residents are informing 'cauise their neighbours keep scoring
And the blocks all smell appalling, mad roaches crawling
I ain't balling, I'm eight ballin' (yeah)
I'm yet to go all in (ah)
But see that might change if these prices keep falling (yeah)
And these clients keep calling (yeah)
Top gears, no stalling
These dumb niggas I'm schooling (cchooling), ruling
No snapbacks, just black bags and backpacks
Envelopes with white powder but nah, it's not Anthrax
Runnin' out, hit Badger up and see if he has that
Not long, link up, exchange stock, NASDAQ (ha)
My syntax too abstract but most man won't catch that
My contact got A.Cs (yeah), they're dropping in Halifax
If the bitch try 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, snot coming out my glands
Got wraps in my Vans, cracks in my hands
I ain't got no future, no long-term plans
Hour glass near empty, runnin' out of sand
I'm talking to the devil 'cause he understands (I understand)

Half ounce in my satchel (yes)
All stories factual (yeah)
All stories actual
Accounts is so casual
Bet yet so tactful
How I glamourise these tales of powder and capsules
Drugs, I've got a sackful (yeah)
Mouth full
Cracks like I'm chewin' on fruit pastels (uh)
So brash, not bashful (nah)
Got cash 'cause I'm holdin' (yeah)
More weight than both axels
Just seems so rational (yeah)
More horse than the grand national
From Cheshunt to Chester (yeah)
Gettin' that Red Lester
Since way back when, you though Kane was a wrestler
I was on that trap shit (yeah), I don't let my food fester (nah)
On the ball like Iniesta (ah)
Lunch at the Dorchester (ah)
Feds move so messed up (cunts)
Want us in court all dressed up (cunts)
Five years for coke but two for a child molester, fuck it though
I don't rest, no siesta (nah)
Got a meeting up west to impress an investor

Got 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, snot coming out my glands
Got wraps in my Vans, cracks in my hands
I ain't got no future, no long-term plans
Hour glass near empty, runnin' out of sand
I'm talking to the devil 'cause he understands (I understand)