Tristan Cardon - conversation piece Lyrics

Seem to have ran
Faster than the day
Faster than your mind
Slow me in a way
Yeah, thrown up
Yeah, throwin up
Yeah, don't ask
Still stuck
(Yeah every breath take)
(Every step take)
Spirituality
Accompanies my thinking
Sit and point the t
See no point in the ring
See no point to drink
See no point in thinking
Thinking pointedly
Ha, boring
(Yeah, whoo yeah)
(Whoo)
I hope that the hour aint my last chance
I hope that the hour aint my last
Attempt. Last
Day to break in
Last time
I was all fucked up
(Bring in the drums)
(Bring in the drums)
(Where would you fly? Yeah)
Yeah
Ooh yeah
Yeah
Ooh yeah
Oh yeah
Mmmh
Mmm
My approach is minimalistic
Don't be belligerent
Shootin bullets ballistic
Out of your bullets
Killin
Out on the streets
Its the way that shit goes
Can't find no peace
Walkin up and down, you get
Stopped, by the cops
On the same streets that you grown up on
Can't walk too far
Without gettin thrown on
Thrown down, curb stomped
Run up, run out
Run this whole town
Run this, ho
Feelin lost inside
Focus on the rappin
Gettin too damn high
Too many new things
All these killers in sight
All these drills tryna drill
All them tryna take my mind
All them tryna compress
All them tryna de-stress
I aint down with that
I don't need more that
I don't need your judgment
Stand right back
Stand right back
Stand right back
Offa this new type drill beat
Hi-hats gettin beat in
Let the drums
The bass drum rock my feet in, yeah
My season, yeah
My season, yeah
Spitballin my mind, I slept in today
Cause I don't see the point of runnin
Point of runnin it all day
When I'm standin in the sunlight
I'm blinded by the way
The wind blow sand to my eyes
Yeah, the saints arrive
But there aint no praise
Cannot receive
The things you say
Sensibility seems to have escaped

Seem to have ran
Faster than the day
Faster than your mind
Slow me in a way
Yeah, thrown up
Yeah, throwin up
Yeah, don't ask
Still stuck
(Yeah every breath take)
(Every step take)
Spirituality
Accompanies my thinking
Sit and point the t
See no point in the ring
See no point to drink
See no point in thinking
Thinking pointedly
Ha, boring
(Yeah, whoo yeah)
(Whoo)
I hope that the hour aint my last chance
I hope that the hour aint my last
Attempt. Last
Day to break in
Last time
I was all fucked up
(Bring in the drums)
(Bring in the drums)
(Where would you fly? Yeah)
Yeah
Ooh yeah
Yeah
Ooh yeah
Oh yeah
Mmmh
Mmm
My approach is minimalistic
Don't be belligerent
Shootin bullets ballistic
Out of your bullets
Killin
Out on the streets
Its the way that shit goes
Can't find no peace
Walkin up and down, you get
Stopped, by the cops
On the same streets that you grown up on
Can't walk too far
Without gettin thrown on
Thrown down, curb stomped
Run up, run out
Run this whole town
Run this, ho
Feelin lost inside
Focus on the rappin
Gettin too damn high
Too many new things
All these killers in sight
All these drills tryna drill
All them tryna take my mind
All them tryna compress
All them tryna de-stress
I aint down with that
I don't need more that
I don't need your judgment
Stand right back
Stand right back
Stand right back
Offa this new type drill beat
Hi-hats gettin beat in
Let the drums
The bass drum rock my feet in, yeah
My season, yeah
My season, yeah
Spitballin my mind, I slept in today
Cause I don't see the point of runnin
Point of runnin it all day
When I'm standin in the sunlight
I'm blinded by the way
The wind blow sand to my eyes
Yeah, the saints arrive
But there aint no praise
Cannot receive
The things you say
Sensibility seems to have escaped