Lyrics NICOTINE (feat. Henry Ross) - Nine Seven Pta

Oh my god
Yeah, ayy
Ayy

I tore the room apart for the nic, baby we on
We had to shoot the shot to start the race
To bet the mon', ow we up like
Sipped, crafted waveform
That's how we got to criminal
Accidental weight loss, headspace liminal

Shifted sights for sore eyes
Like four eyes ain't had enough
He packed it up and felt it rough
And wrote it down and left it raw
Noticed that the writings felt a shift in life aside from walls
In which the pen was etched and sketched alive
I'm manifesting loss

Don't shit on eterniity
Life lately been hurting me
Felt the burn that I once graduated from
My first degree
Case in point that class was an exercise in uncertainty
Side besides the good life or bad life that's flirting me

I can't find the thing that's been meddling my addiction shit
Now I gotta figure out ways to step up my diction, bitch
Yeah, my addiction, bitch

I can't find the thing that can keep me alive
Yeah, yeah
I can't find nothing and I'm trying to rewind
Yeah eh, uh
Sold my soul for life and I'm trying to deny it
I can't exercise that restraint in my mind

Nah I don't know her, but
I'm hoping that the itch in my lungs is like the girl that fucked Tyler up
I might not be inspired, but the ride's a bump
At least I copped the finer stuff
Unwillingly buying pied pipers for when my time is up

Retire with white lighters in my hand
There's no manual to check
But I can't plan while I stand,I haven't tried it yet
I'm by my side enough
I ry to get high enough
I'm hoping I diet less
I'm hoping I cry enough

I'm hoping all my quietness is not from lack of dialect
But times are tough
I come upon a couple thou- and spend it on a diner mug
And use the rest to find unfired lungs, cause like I said the times are tough
And higher rungs require drying in a pious sun

Indigenous to the kitchen with too much respect
For chefs to be considered one
I was born in sand and came up on some startled try and jump
I depict addicted life but no I will not die in one
My room is torn apart to finally bum some will and build my character like Meyers does
As tires rub on asphalt
Hearing sputtered starts from moving vans I'm fried above
Watching from the window, nic can't hold a candle wick
To what my diction does

I can't find the thing that can keep me alive
Yeah, yeah
I can't find nothing and I'm trying to rewind
Yeah eh, uh
Sold my soul for life and I'm trying to deny it
I can't exercise that restraint in my mind