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lirik lagu brain dead – cellow

[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?)

- cellow

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