Skyzoo (@skyzoo) - "Suicide Doors" (Produced by MarcNfinit. Trumpet by Sean Taylor. Cuts by DJ Shylow)

Skyzoo - "Suicide Doors"

Produced by MarcNfinit

Music For My Friends

First Generation Rich / EMPIRE

Purchase the single here

"Music For My Friends", in stores and on iTunes June 23rd 

“Suicide Doors” (Lyrics)

Verse 1:

As I think of how to begin this, I already thought up the ending/ and if the ending dictates the way the start of it’s written/ then I’m really rewinding what isn’t, get it?/ swear it gets harder to get it but when you got it/ to get it again’s more innocent, it’s like product/ concealing the end is in a sense how lights got us/ and sealing the win’s where it begins, it’s right by us/ labeled it type bias, to be one in the same/ or maybe they might buy us, to see one of us change/ or say that they might bye us, and leave us yet again/ for a gain like pills on the banners of your screen/ know to handle the regime is the handle on the lead/ and the hands do extend ‘til a hand is outta reach/ and the reach be the limbs that’ll balance out the means/ and the means to it all will get a ski mask involved/ and you winning or you swimming in a flood of the maroon type/ sheets by the dozen and you covered by a boom mic/ pardon, the most humble of an autograph/ the threaded needles of Desert Eagles & honors raps/ the high of thinking you can find more/ the balance of the script when a shooter signs off/ ballerina fits like two inside four/ all for the intrigue of a suicide door…

Hook:

Saw the doors lifting up,

And then they never came down,

I mean they rode around the block with the doors lifted up,

Like they was flying off the ground,

And then they told us that they call those suicide doors,

They said they call those suicide doors,

The break lights was 100 dollar bill green,

And we was green for a suicide door

Verse 2:

And as we take this to a further route, the steps move like its word of mouth/ the steps move like if they was stepping with us when we further out/ so step two becomes to work around/ it gets lighter than a fly knit, tighter than a eye slit/ brighter than the writer you was bright enough to climb with/ complimenting you while biggin’ up me/ just brings us up to speed to the steps that we aligned with/ then it all ties in, tied up to keep down/ or cover up your eyes when it flies like you Dee Brown/ the complexities of rubbing arms next to me/ it all adds to these bags of longevity/ it’s like, I’m Wayne Shorter with a ratchet fetish/ or, I’m Mendecees with a jazz collection/ in other words, I covet what they covered/ like overflowing cupboards spilling Gold Medal dreams/ and running to the cupboard like you’re gold medal breed/ or bred, and fed how that Gold Medal steam/ meanings all over, you can pick the one that suits you/ depending the tie the accessory could lose you/ see how we still twisting shit together?/ black ice dangle from the mirror that reflects us/ black ice tangled til the loop is tied off/ all for the intrigue of a suicide door…