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letra de sky ferriera is not addicted to heroin - dom mclennon

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 9, 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

[verse 2: kevin abstract]
reading the fader mag i’m glad that i’m not in yet
i’m not finished yet
i think that xxl post had some n-ggas geekin
frequently i’m seeing my n-ggas who live far away
i travel a lot, i’m 17 and i don’t babble a lot
unless it’s on social media, awkward disease
i was gifted with, sh-t, if you consider it that
pale b-tches 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 sh-t
i’m cool though, black kids at school starting to f-ck with me
they think i’m getting money, really i’m just spending money
personally broke as f-ck but in the 90s my ma lucked out
f-ck, the american dream right? smell like a teen right
top down screaming out wait til i get my cream right
let that sh-t breathe, you think you k!lling me?
don’t view you as an enemy, my aspirations getting bigger
sister slippin evil, liquor in her liver
label thrown on me, n-gga, n-gga, n-gga
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 bas-m-nts
slaving over a mothaf-cking statement to the world
middle finger to the burbs
too much judgement going on round here
so imma pack my bags and chase a dream for yr
doing whatever it takes to get my point across clear
and clearly this the sh-t y’all ain’t tryna hear

[verse 3: dom mclennon]
back with the regularly scheduled bullsh-t!
blasting off a ray gun with a full clip
and aiming it at 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 sh-t 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? yah, we make that a lot
blazed off a couple of cash crops, but really though
got my feet on the edge of the flat world and feeling like columbus
let me go explore and i can run this
pupils gone from all 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 thats a piece of my imagination
my world’s more american mcgee than disney
middle finger to the coppers screaming coming and get me
bumping nas so i can blaze a 50
my n-gga bumpin nas
we on that old wayne sh-t bumpin “a milli”
f-ckin 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…

- dom mclennon

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