“You can’t trust me because I can’t trust you.”
Inspired by BLP Kosher
By: Gavin Labonte

You can’t trust me because I can’t trust you!
Let me just tell you, there’s a queue,
There ain’t gonna be tears for you.
Why they all skittish, but ain’t British?
Skert the boat and get back in it.
Pouncin on all em hijackers.
He droppin stuff, that rig was riggin.
Pockets heavy lookin like I’m Shaq, but I ain’t from the track.
I got an itch, but I’m wearing wool; still livin life in full.
I’m from Wool Woes,
My pockets sad–her sass is bad.
Kids used to do “mad-libs,”
Now they got phones, and lazy bones.
Magicians doin hat tricks,
I’ve run three routes, I’m ridin’ round.
I got a bad hip, I’m tryna walk down Gaza Strip.
Kids a snake,
He thinks he’s all groovy–he got cuffed away.
Feel that strong breeze; I used to run away from that hurricane.
They told me to “wait till marriage, then you’ll grieve”,
That’s just what they said.
But I ain’t gonna get married to no dummy, or no dim or dense.
Sometimes you just gotta slow down,
Runnin around every dang day.
Bangor, Maine, probably don’t know where that’s at,
It’s an unknown place.
I’m going flatline, I need a pulse,
cause my life’s still at stake.
They came up short; they got away.
I saw a croc; down by the bay.
Bad lil kid from round that way.
They wanna burn my funnel cake.
I stacked a big pile, opps are 30, but I’m too far underage.
Enhance–my pockets thicker, but I ain’t gettin played round like a game.
Pluck an opp, they doin stuff without you, why are you so lame?
I left, I had to go without you.
This aint no sunset train.
I’m on the mic, forever love — my brother love,
But we ain’t the island boys.
They think I’m geeked all out of my mind,
But it’s just a northern thing.
She acts like she don’t want me,
So I just told her, “Move along.”
I’m always keepin busy,
I ain’t got time for no broad.
They tryna figure out how I’m racing tracks, but still slow.
They used to laugh, now they wanna slide,
But I don’t mess with them.
Now they figgin, but they were never genuine.
Let them go on, your gettin bread,
Your still leavenin.
I wonder why I rock with him,
I’m just countin benjamins.
Some stayed, but most switched sides,
So now I’m all alone.
But ima still wear my chains around my neck bones.
And I don’t wanna run unless I hit the milestones.
Next year, sad to say, I’ll be out on all my own.
Boys gettin dunked, they wearin gap, but still got baptized
Northern Atlantic, I still remember all those frat guys.
It’s high tide, but them boys butterflies, so I antagonize.
One road, two turns — every path still burns.
If every road leads to Rome, then ima go while you watch.