Parcha
Drops of forbidden fruits falling off my chin
I'm picking up the pieces I been leaving behind
Hoping that when I make it to you I might have a rhyme
Something better than a scheme
Cause niggas think I'm lacking in passion
Haven't been stepping to mics
I'm stuck in my head
If I snap then I'm overreacting
Screaming about some bullshit
Worries for today
Whatever these kids up to
I hope they don't do it
Cause it feel 10 degrees hotter outside my winda
And I been sick n tired of this winta
Cold snaps packed into water pipes
Bubblin over, shits air tight
Faded fighting a battle you never meant to win
So I guess this is where it all begins
Sitting on the train
Riding to a place with a name I can't remember
Talking to folk I hope I remember
Holes in my memories like cigarette butts burned out on my brain
Riding a smoke trail to higher places
I'm addicted to pain
Addicted to fucking myself up further than reason
And here I'm hoping my shit switch up with the seasons
Summer coming round the corner
Better speed dial the coroner
Niggas die for nothing but simple blunders
And the funeral just ride on by
Procession whole street wide
Til niggas get shot in the parlor
Somebody somebody call the doctor
Before one funeral becomes three
Too many mothers crying over their babies laying in caskets
Pleading with deities that don't seem to answer the phone
Pastor passing the basket telling you he's coming home
But you know better than to believe em
Toss the dirt up in a grave and pray it turn back to carbon
Lower and lower beneath the surface
Know the beginning of the sentence will never bring an end
Streaming thoughts all conscious to the screen of a phone
21 years past this point you call home
Bouncing between atoms, we make strings into theories and toss em over the electrics
Shit been relative lately feel like it's past time for expletives
I'm sipping parcha limbe on a hot Sunday afternoon
Calling my momma telling her I'm coming home soon
Needed some time in the wild, get myself closer to my nature
Writing verses into digital spaces not paper
Lost my train of thought to panic attacks on the side of the road
Thinking this life be quick as a blinking of a god so just leave me alone
Cause if we been left here, tell me what's the point of hope
Do we just grasp to the ends of rope, tethered together with simple reason
Fuck the logic, no cohesion
I told you I been back with the passion fruit
I'm picking up the pieces I been leaving behind
Hoping that when I make it to you I might have a rhyme
Something better than a scheme
Cause niggas think I'm lacking in passion
Haven't been stepping to mics
I'm stuck in my head
If I snap then I'm overreacting
Screaming about some bullshit
Worries for today
Whatever these kids up to
I hope they don't do it
Cause it feel 10 degrees hotter outside my winda
And I been sick n tired of this winta
Cold snaps packed into water pipes
Bubblin over, shits air tight
Faded fighting a battle you never meant to win
So I guess this is where it all begins
Sitting on the train
Riding to a place with a name I can't remember
Talking to folk I hope I remember
Holes in my memories like cigarette butts burned out on my brain
Riding a smoke trail to higher places
I'm addicted to pain
Addicted to fucking myself up further than reason
And here I'm hoping my shit switch up with the seasons
Summer coming round the corner
Better speed dial the coroner
Niggas die for nothing but simple blunders
And the funeral just ride on by
Procession whole street wide
Til niggas get shot in the parlor
Somebody somebody call the doctor
Before one funeral becomes three
Too many mothers crying over their babies laying in caskets
Pleading with deities that don't seem to answer the phone
Pastor passing the basket telling you he's coming home
But you know better than to believe em
Toss the dirt up in a grave and pray it turn back to carbon
Lower and lower beneath the surface
Know the beginning of the sentence will never bring an end
Streaming thoughts all conscious to the screen of a phone
21 years past this point you call home
Bouncing between atoms, we make strings into theories and toss em over the electrics
Shit been relative lately feel like it's past time for expletives
I'm sipping parcha limbe on a hot Sunday afternoon
Calling my momma telling her I'm coming home soon
Needed some time in the wild, get myself closer to my nature
Writing verses into digital spaces not paper
Lost my train of thought to panic attacks on the side of the road
Thinking this life be quick as a blinking of a god so just leave me alone
Cause if we been left here, tell me what's the point of hope
Do we just grasp to the ends of rope, tethered together with simple reason
Fuck the logic, no cohesion
I told you I been back with the passion fruit
Credits
Writer(s): Clarence Morse Jr.
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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