PICASSO - COUNTRY LUNATIC - REAL EVENTS- #lunaticnation4life

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COUNTRY LUNATIC
F.O.W.B INDEPENDENT RECORDS
LUNATIC NATION
All music in this video is original and owned by me. I hold full commercial rights to distribute, monetize and promote

REAL STORY
Yeah… True story, motherfucker
Country Lunatic… and 51/50 Chubby…
In a fuckin' Crown Vic cop car,
Deep in Florida dirt — shit legendary...
Tattooed arms, inked by the outlaw himself…
Let me tell y’all what the fuck went down…

Fake badge, fake mustache, Crown Vic flashin’
Me and Chubby hit the lot like it’s full metal passion
Had a janitor insider, nightshift dumb as bricks
Slipped in smooth — fuck a laser, we was born slick

Vault in the back, they ain’t even display it,
That Picasso tucked like a secret worth savin’
Chubby had a duffel, I had the Glock cocked
One cut the lights, other cracked that lock box

No alarms, just silence and sweat
Two white trash ghosts with a million-dollar debt
Out the back with the canvas, heart rate calm
Cops drove past — didn’t even raise palms

Rebel flag tarp hid that brushstroke crime
We rode through swamp gas and Georgia pine
Pulled up to Lime Rock, laughed in the creek
With a Picasso in the trunk and a plan on repeat

Who the fuck robbed a museum with a cop car key?
Me and 51/50 — straight felony spree
Paintin’ pain on the wall with a dopeboy soul
With the feds playin' catch-up deep down in the hole

Picasso and prison time — that’s the trade
He took all the heat, never dropped my name
And that rat who snitched? He vanished in mud
You don’t play both sides in a backwoods flood

Had a son with his sister — shit didn’t work,
She turned out foul, put my name in the dirt
But Chubby ain’t blink — said, “Bro, keep pushin’”
He took every charge, I ain't even get booked in

He looked that fed squad dead in the face
Said, “I did it all, y’all can close the case”
Never cracked once, didn’t point, didn’t plea
That man bled ink and loyalty for me

He ain’t just do my tats, he carved my path
From broke-ass junkie to a throne of wrath
He said, “Handle yours, raise your seed,”
Then disappeared in that concrete sea

And that snake who flipped? He ain't breathin’ today
Swamp don’t snitch, it just eats what betrays
Ain’t no grave, no case, no goodbye kiss
Just moss on the water and a name in the mist

You ever stole a Picasso with a Crown Vic badge?
You ever watched the law hunt you like a backwoods stag?
You ever seen a convict smile through fed time pain?
That's Chubby — the legend they could never chain

Who the fuck robbed a museum with a cop car key?
Me and 51/50 — straight felony spree
Paintin’ pain on the wall with a dopeboy soul
With the feds playin' catch-up deep down in the hole

Picasso and prison time — that’s the trade
He took all the heat, never dropped my name
And that rat who snitched? He vanished in mud
You don’t play both sides in a backwoods flood

I wouldn’t be here if he ain't take that fall,
Wouldn’t be Country Lunatic, wouldn’t stand this tall
Chubby fed the flame that lit my rise
While locked in a cell with blood in his eyes

I got a son now — and I teach him pride,
Teach him what a man looks like when he ride or die
Me and Chubby ain’t spoke since he did that time
But I pray he out there, still breathin’ grime

Tattooed my story all across my skin
From the first fuckin' pistol to the last-born sin
And if I ever make millions from this outlaw dream,
His cut gon’ come first — that’s what loyalty mean

Word on the tier, one snitched, then dipped,
Told the feds ‘bout the Vic and the art we gripped
Said Chubby did this, said I moved that —
But karma move quicker than a Dodge on flats

Couple weeks later, he just vanished one night,
Truck found burnt near a creek with no lights
No prints, no signs, no body, no clue,
Just a jawbone chillin’ in a size ten shoe

I ain’t seen shit, I was cleanin’ my steel,
Fishin’ at the lake, packin' vacuum seals
They say justice blind, but revenge got vision,
And snitchin’ 'round here mean lifelong missin’

This that backwoods silence, mud-covered law,
Where a rat disappear like a tooth in a brawl
Ain’t no Facebook threats, just ghosts in the pines,
You cross this fam — you cross state lines in pine

Yeah...
Real quiet now, huh...
Picasso still hangin’ — but he?
Just another whisper in the moss, motherfucker.

Picasso and prison time — that’s the trade
He took all the heat, never dropped my name
And that rat who snitched? He vanished in mud
You don’t play both sides in a backwoods flood

I ain't forgot about you, my motherfuckin’ man
Ain’t a track I drop where your ink ain’t stand
Every needle, every shade — that was your hand
This whole saga — that was our plan

Country Lunatic, bitch.
And Chubby — that's 51/50 Chubby, bitch.
Put some goddamn respect on that name.
Legends ain't born… they ride Crown Vics into museums.
And they don’t fold.
Ever.