a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

pseudo slang - out a touch lyrics

reaching out
reaching out
my hands [?] to get by
reaching out (of touch)

reaching out to feel the concrete with bare feet again
scribble with a dying pen words become elusive but we keep reaching
like we used to wait so eagerly for each weekend
now we’re working seven days there’s barely enough night to just get a nap
used to be out late getting rent in the back alley, chased by thugs
no dilly dally
stayed up all-nighters on the rooftop watch the sunrise for a finale now
now sleep is coveted
i feel like i’m out of touch with kids
so i chill hard with beats my peeps are loving it
but it’s still not the same
we’re visiting la rosita breakfast just to get next to that old effervescence
where we used to frolic restless under the crescent
looking over hardly ever could you catch him sober
that’s word to my dad’s old chevy nova
and i couldn’t graduate in time for him and my gramps to check it
feeling out of touch i send this one out
open at the reverberation
send some sort of pulse into the void
open like that little boy squinting from the sun
i wonder if the sprinkler still at bronx park east
that was the bomb

reaching out (of touch)

from breast fed to death bed
trying to send the stress away
be sk!lled that’s my refill
but can’t reach yesterday
i’m pressing play on the mp, loop’s in effect
just as long as gangster hits record we can reflect correct
otherwise your brother’s lies managed to damage memory
it all comes back and flip round [?] version tenderly
i tend to be [?] red tape
[?] shooting the shit and moms going to bed late
meditate on that drunk track and melody refraction
a list of remedies [?]
won’t step in a church pew right now
but maybe one day stumped resurrection
[?] sunday brunch
some say [?] never make it
they’re breaking atoms to do so
who knows maybe i’ll get luck and find a loophole
few told stories to uphold this old tradition
so i reach out to be more than tradition
i’m on a mission to paint my children a lovely backdrop
and speak of my grandfather of whom i can only remember a snapshot
and that’s almost sad but i’m glad i wrote this jot
i wish my aunt lived on n-ssau that was the dopest spot

reaching out (of touch)
my hands [?]
reaching out (of touch)

- pseudo slang lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS