Pardon - Blu

Yea, When you get too old to fight

Day turns night

Huggin' the light

Hummin' like a bird does dubs etcetera

Love song plethoras

Instead of collectin' her you rejected her

Respected her, let her be hurt

Wrote her a letter and she read it 'fore rescinding

Back to me she won’t

Gone with em' fell victim to the prism of what

Color kill em' slow

Seeds don’t grow by the farms they are

Gentrified sent alive to me, beliefs

The agnostic priests

Optimistical paths so predictable to rituals

Habitual, laugh if it tickles you

Funny money live for you bruh

If it interests you

Mom said its for the French and you

Parlez-vous Francais obviously probly just me

Feelin like Gs, Surrounded by thieves rounded by the trees

Planted by the rivers and the waters, praisin' daughters

Bought a grave for the father

Behave I’m no martyr just, ask Marty kin

Party, Pooper

You’s a loser if you ain’t with somebody

On the fourteenth goin' on the twenty-sixth feelin' like a bitch

Cuz I was feelin' this bitch

Wasn’t doin' nothin' but feelin' her, Now What?

Back to feelin this paper, feelin' this vapor caped crusader

Ain’t the same, I came close but no cigar folks

(Pea Job?) split to the head like a drop-kick

Through the snares and all but who cares

I cut my hair instead of pullin' it out of my head, dawg I was

Something like it, now I’m

Nothin' without something sunk in my chair thinkin' bout

Lovin' someone so rare but I can’t keep followin' in

Starin' at a dream, Moonwalk talkin' to ghosts

Gone off of that, endo smokin' we elope

Dope boy on his own

God bless the child who grows the:

Lone Ranger from, out of the manger born

Knowledge reign supreme over nearly anyone that’s afraid to dream try…

(«Ay yai yai yai

You think those guys look like they’ll ever be sensitive to my record

collection?

(laughing)

A bunch of football jocks, 'What do you got here?

A bunch of old albums or

something?'»)