Letra Black French Montana

Black

I got a to-do list of bad habits.
Spending money like I have it living in havoc just to
create.
I can't afford to support my biggest influences, because you
either live lavish or you wait.
Most only make enough to buy new paint for their next
project, but what color best represents honest?
That is without yet absorbs all concept.
What artist absorbs every other artist and illustrates the
obvious in a way that we haven't thought yet?
What artist can do no wrong or does wrong so well that it's
convincingly right?
The youth is living through death by simply taking their
time like it can't be taken away by a reaper who doesn't let
us overpopulate.
She says, some get to go but some gotta stay at home.
For most people, hell is simply just being in one place.
For some, heaven is never having to show your face.
All the things we make just to hide behind getting high on
our own supply makes art is no longer a needle in the hay,
but a syringe in the needles.
Because everyone's got a point but they care so very little.
Originality junkies waiting for their chance to saysomething they're waiting for their names to be mentioned
devising a plan to make themselves so important by doing
absolutely as little as possible.
Taking advantage of the impressionable.
Impersonating a hero as if you understand what darkness that
title holds, but I don't think you do.
Sadly, the truth is being without suffering is like being
without parents.
What could guide a human more than pain?
What will sculpt a carving better than a blade?
All these rich kids are orphans with over-stimulated
endorphins.
Strung out on their heroine mother and meth head father with
enough money to ensure that you will never be poor enough to
experience true happiness.
For some, it takes being deprived to feel alive. Others know
the value of life without an attempt at death and I can't
stress it enough
I'm stressed enough as it is.
So, I take my time like it can't be taken away.
Don't tell me you're biting the bullets when all your
problems are blank.
I swear that I used to have a mind that's full, but now my
head just aches from these kids that are so colorful and
quick to throw the shade.
When you're the only one to blame for forgetting that the
world is not the past tense of whirl even if our lives seem
stagnate.
If we had a perfect view of the planet through glass, could
we look past our reflection to see it?
Or do we just see ourselves pretending to take the view in?
Acting like we give a shit for the sake of the viewership
that's already sunken.
We are an audience in a submarine falling deeper into ocean
water and calling it space.
We are a group of people with the same thoughts as our
ancestors.
Still left with no answers.
Still left with no way.
Too clever to show that we have no idea what to do with the
day.
So we wait for the night, because it's easier to plague
tomorrow with the burden of sobriety.
Crossing our fingers that the sun is gone for good so we
don't have to be. Drunk driving my own hearse in all white,
because everyday I was alive I wore nothing but black.
Because black is the only thing that is honest.
It doesn't pretend to be something it isn't.
It doesn't desire.
It doesn't weep.
It doesn't exist.
and that's what makes it honest.
Because when you are nothing,
you can do no wrong.