Silian Braille

I get piff from The Purist My sniff is the purest One thing thats 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 cos their neighbours keep scoring And the blocks all smell appalling Mad roaches crawling I ain't balling Im 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 niggers I'm schooling Ruling 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 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 back track Swear down she'l 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 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 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 Chiswick to Chester Getting that Red Lester Since way back when You though caine 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 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