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letra de brain dead - cellow

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[intro: rio da yung og]
i’ll get to sh-t talkin’ in your booth if i get comfortable
just made a hundred cash, went to the store and bought a lunchable
you got a hundred cash on you? me too
eight-hundred-dollar dior shirt and it’s see-through
got a pint of act’, i’m drinkin’ ones, i’m on wink too

(d-mn, 2side, where you get that beat from?)

[verse 1: cellow]
run it up, run it up
i just dropped a bag, but i’ma make it back a hundred plus
forty-two on top of my shoe, i love my balenci runners
got the leds, i just be spendin’, you can’t die with cheese
spank after spank, i remember dumpin’ qps
showin’ love to all my loyal custos, givin’ free g’s
b-tch gon’ let me f-ck ’cause i got bag, but she won’t get a thing
i could grab the percs, but i gеt enough dealin’ with the geeks
early bird gon’ еat the most, might stop and get breakfast at sheikhs
i ain’t even famous, b-tches starin’ like a meet-and-greet
i can’t even blame ’em, we just pulled up bigger than a fleet
b-tch know everything in my jeans long, so she clenchin’ her t–th
she wanna taste the cell
got ten racks tucked in all blues and she can’t even tell
they sleep on me and i don’t know why, my name been ringin’ bells
the opps know what it is, they see me and they tuckin’ tails
my boys good at dumpin’ sh-lls
target practice at the range, play, we shootin’ for the nail
even if we leave a n-gga breathin’, bet he braindead
last thing that he seen j-u-double-g with the chain red
red rum if you mentionin’ my name, i get the gang dead, b-tch
[verse 2: rio da yung og]
alright, he survived a bullet to the head but he braindead
rio ain’t really gettin’ money, that’s what a lame said
b-tch askin’ me what’s my name, what my chain said?
bust a script at wal-mart and it came red
look at the type of sh-t god do for me
and i don’t need a soul to shoot for me, i got scoot with me
you ever had so much dog sh-t it left a dookie streak?
b-tch head game strong as f-ck, but the coochie weak
hmm, alright, what up, my n-gga cellow?
i got a country b-tch in marietta, she thicker than jell-o
my phone trippin’, askin’ ’bout work, n-gga, h-llo? h-llo? h-llo?
let me hang up on this n-gga, dog, he talkin’ loose
and if you see me meetin’ diesel, then i bought some juice
i get mad love when i walk in truth ’cause i talk the truth
and they paid me to come perform, but i bought a booth
it got cold as h-ll yesterday, i went and bought a goose
think this b-tch’d believe me if i told her i just fought a moose
hit this n-gga with a one-two and he lost a tooth
he ain’t want much for the pint, it was cost-able
i’ll get to sh-t talkin’ in your booth if i get comfortable
just made a hundred cash, went to the store and bought a lunchable
you got a hundred cash on you? me too
eight-hundred-dollar dior shirt and it’s see-through
got a pint of act’, i’m drinkin’ ones, i’m on wink too
silencer on the k and the new car, i’m finna creep through
i don’t like a lot of people
i’m in dayton ridin’ ’round with my fiend, he tryna find a needle
last year, i would’ve k!lled you over a slice of pizza
real n-ggas listen when i talk, i’m kinda like a teacher
[verse 3: cellow]
i don’t even blame ’em
you still gotta watch these n-ggas, ri know i’ma flame ’em
slime ’em out and bang ’em
free my n-ggas out the feds, it’s just a lil’ time
ridin’ ’round dirty, see the lights, shoot baseline
head to the trap, all these p’s, i got a green thumb
real shooters trailin’, standard clips, they don’t need drums, uh
free my n-gga rio
i can’t let the feds get me, i’m goin’ out like cleo
gotta know i’m off the leash
wolf on land, but he a shark, look at the t–th
n-ggas bark, then cop a plea like they allergic to the beef
ask me how i made it far, ain’t let no n-gga play me sweet
only reason i play it cool, don’t want my demon to be breached, yeah
yup, i don’t like a lot of n-ggas
seen the snakes up in the grass, i threw a light up on the glizzy
seven hundred on the ar, i’ma get geeked up when i hit him
real loadout on me, walk him down with the semi, n-gga
ayy, leave him braindead
rio told me get him, got him, left the curb red, n-gga

[outro]
(d-mn, 2side, where you get that beat from?)

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