Sky Ferriera Is Not Addicted To Heroin

Lyrics

[Prod. Romil & Dom McLennon] [Verse 1: Dom McLennon] I look at clocks while I'm dreaming and feel illiterate Tripped into a lucid state; now I'm hitting barbiturates Crip walking on cloud nine, aware and ignorant Misfit of the genesis with emphasis, demolishing pretentiousness Copped a holy grail from the App Store Sipping enthenogens out of the cup of Jesus then Rolling with the cleanest kin, expressing these dreams within So tell me what you're reading into, hmm [Verse 2: Kevin Abstract] Reading The FADER mag, I'm glad that I'm not in it yet I'm not finished yet I think that double-X-L post had some niggas geekin' Frequently I'm seeing my niggas who live far away, I travel a lot I'm seveenteen and I don't babble a lot Unless it's on social media, awkward disease I was gifted with, shit, if you consider it that Pale bitches or you know, African, Black Only way that I like 'em, writing gems down Chilling outside of Sky's house With who is now my kin, wow, weird shit I'm cool though, black kids at school, though Starting to fuck with me, they think I'm getting money, really I'm just spending money, personally broke as fuck But in the 90s my ma lucked out, fuck The American dream right? Smell like a teen right? Top down screaming out wait til I get my cream right Oww, now let that shit breathe You think you killing me? Don't view you as an enemy My aspirations getting bigger Sister sippin evil, liquor in her liver Label thrown on me, nigga, nigga, nigga Remove the power from the words dawg That's what my idols say Momma tell me to remember what the Bible say But honestly, my life is turning to a tidal wave I'm losing my place reading this page They say pace, pace, pace boy it's all about pacing It's all about making, all about creating Weekends spent in basements Slaving over a motherfucking statement to the world Middle finger to the 'burbs Too much judgment going on 'round here I'ma pack up my bags and chase a dream for a year Doing whatever it takes to get my point across clear And clearly this the shit y'all ain't tryna hear [Verse 3: Dom McLennon] So, back to the regularly scheduled bullshit Blasting off a ray gun with a full clip And aiming it at the sky, hoping to shoot the moon Metaphors for moments where I jumped too soon Or too late, it's too great Time is relative when your lobes inside your skull are split In separate dimensions and you're still connecting all the dots Don't worry if you don't follow, I get that shit a lot Pulling til my fingers hot, my totem is off it's top Wonder what would happen if I shot a cop by accident And if the reaction would be the same if opposite Contemplating with all of my conglomerate, I say that a lot But did you hear the first verse? Yeah, we make that a lot Blazed off a couple cash crops, but really though Got my feet on the edge of the flat world And I'm feeling like Columbus Let me go explore and I can run this Pupils gone from all of this fungus Represent for those among us who reside on the outskirts of elsewhere [Verse 4: Dom McLennon & Kevin Abstract] Kick in the door with the gun waving I'm playin', baby, that's a piece of my imagination My world's more American McGee than Disney Middle finger to the coppers screaming, "Come and get me" Bumping Nas so I can blaze a 50 Ah, my nigga bumpin Nas We on that old Wayne shit bumpin "A Milli" Fucking silly to think but at the end of the day I probably would grow more in my afterlife Than you would breathing What is the reason? I can't believe this This fucking feeling Stay concealing it but