The Purist - Silian Braille lyrics
rate meYeeh
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 roads from morning
Dark clouds are forming
And the dope fiends are swarming
Police come without warning
Residents informing cos their
neighbours keep scoring
And the blocks all smell appalling
Mad roaches is crawling
I ain't balling
Im 8 ballin
I'm yet to to go all in
But see that might changin
if these prices keep falling
And these clients keep calling
Top gear no stalling
These dumb niggers I'm schooling
Rooling
No snap backs just black bags
and backpacks
Envelopes with white powder
But nah its not anthrax
Running out
Hit Badger up and see if he has that
Not long link up
Exchange stock ...
My syntax to abstract
But most man wouldn't catch that
My contact got...
Their dropping in Halifax
If the bitch try back track
Swear down she'l get slapped
Right outside that bank fam
Give a fuck clap that
In my vans
Cracks in my hands
I ain't got no future
No long term plans
Pyrex and teflon
Dutch pots and pans
Its 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
Cos he understands
Half ounce in my satchel
All stories factual
All stories actual
Accounts is so casual
Bet yet so tactful
How I glamourise
there tales of powder and capsules
Drugs I've 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 ... to Chester
Getting that
Since way back when
You though caine was a wrestler
I was on that trap shit
I don't let my food festa'
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
2 for a child molester
Fuck it though
I don't rest no siesta
Got a meeting up westa'
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
Its 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
Cos he understands
