Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Sky Ferriera Is Not Addicted To Heroin, artist - Dom MclennonDate of issue: 29.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Sky Ferriera Is Not Addicted To Heroin |
| 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 |
| 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 niggas geekin |
| Frequently I’m seeing my niggas 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, 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 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 |
| Let that shit breathe, you think you killing me? |
| Don’t view you as an enemy, my aspirations getting bigger |
| Sister slippin 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 mothafucking 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 shit y’all ain’t tryna hear |
| Back with the regularly scheduled bullshit! |
| 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 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? |
| 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 |
| 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 nigga bumpin Nas |
| We on that old Wayne shit bumpin «A Milli» |
| Fuckin 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… |