Sky Ferriera Is Not Addicted To Heroin - Dom Mclennon, Kevin Abstract

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…