Suicide Doors

[Produced by MarcNfinit; trumpets by Sean Taylor, cuts by DJ Shylow]

[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 and 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…