SKYBOX by Gunna Lyrics Meaning – Soaring Beyond the Status Quo


You can view the lyrics, alternate interprations and sheet music for Gunna's SKYBOX at Lyrics.org.
Article Contents:
  1. Music Video
  2. Lyrics
  3. Song Meaning

Lyrics

Uh
(Taurus)
Uh

Gettin’ high in the skybox, I can see, yeah (see, yeah)
Hot spot and it’s plushed out, and it’s lit, yeah (yeah)
Screwed, chopped, hmm, Gucci socks, got ’em drippin’ (drippin’)
Fuck the cops, we can’t be stopped, just admit it

Hey (hey), hey (hey), hey (hey)
Put some diamonds in Chrome Hearts lens
Bought a new Benz, lost some more friends
Stretchin’ my hands, money all in
Fuckin’ her friend, break her in bed
Hundred in tens, count it in hands
Trust done got thin, keep a FN
I gotta go (go), I gotta spend
I drove a boat, I’ll drive again
Ain’t got no note, I ain’t got no rent
I am a GOAT, I am a man (yeah)
We in the low, we smokin’ dope (ah)
We keep it close, you with the folks (oh)
Give him a dose (uh), give me some throat
Lil’ bitty hoe, you already know (you know)
Bitch, we the topic, just ask for the toppings
You know that they copyin’ you, whoa (you, whoa)
They cleanin’ and moppin’, these bitches, they hop in
I couldn’t fall out with the bro, uh
Hotter than Taki’s, I like it, I cop it
Ain’t nobody stoppin’ the Ghost, uh (nobody stoppin’ the Ghost)
Smoke Lodi Dodi, we sit in the lobby
We just rented out the whole floor, uh

Gettin’ high in the skybox, I can see, yeah (see, yeah)
Hot spot and it’s plushed out, and it’s lit, yeah (yeah)
Screwed, chopped, hmm, Gucci socks, got ’em drippin’ (drippin’)
Fuck the cops (uh), we can’t be stopped, just admit it (‘mit it)
Paint the town (town), and slime committed (‘mitted)
Bloodhound (hound), mm, cold hard Crippin’ (cold hard Crippin’)
Best part (yeah), we got all the vibes with it (vibes)
Head start (start), you can’t catch up, so forget it (‘get it)

That’s no cap, I’m in the ‘Ghini (yeah)
This really rap, this ain’t a gimmick (uh)
I had to trap, now I got plenty
I’m in the castle fuckin’ a genie (genie)
I popped a capsule, she wanna wrestle (whoa)
I done got tackled, drunk on the Henny (Henny)
Turned to a saddle, I had to handle (whoa)
I’m ’bout to smack ’em both on the fanny (fanny)
I put four twelves in the V12 (ooh)
My Benz truck startin’ to rattle (whoa, whoa)
She say she smell I’m doin’ well
When I wanna fuck, it don’t matter (uh-uh)
Bitch, I’m a shark, I’m not a whale
Lean in my cup and my bladder (my bladder)
I got it on lock like I’m in jail
Soon as they buck, they gettin’ splattered (get splat)
I’m ’bout to drop and no, I cannot flop
Climbin’ straight to the top like a ladder (a ladder)
Niggas play tough when they talk on the internet
But they ain’t ever gon’ hit ’em, uh
I took a loss and and it made me a boss
Like now look, I’m doin’ better than ever (I’m better than ever)
They cause you to flop, Biscotti when I’m coughin’
I’m tryna get higher than ever (high)

Gettin’ high in the skybox, I can see, yeah (see, yeah)
Hot spot and it’s plushed out, and it’s lit, yeah (yeah)
Screwed, chopped, hmm, Gucci socks, got ’em drippin’ (drippin’)
Fuck the cops (uh), we can’t be stopped, just admit it (‘mit it)
Paint the town (town), and slime committed (‘mitted)
Bloodhound (hound), mm, cold hard Crippin’ (cold hard Crippin’)
Best part (yeah), we got all the vibes with it (vibes)
Head start (start), you can’t catch up, so forget it (‘get it)

Full Lyrics

Ascending to a metaphorical ‘skybox’ in life, Gunna’s ‘SKYBOX’ operates on multiple levels—ostensibly a hedonistic hymn to a lavish lifestyle, yet imbued with subtle digestions of ambition, isolation, and the inescapable gravity of societal issues. Through a serene beat and liquid flows, Gunna pilots us into his rarified air, sharing glimpses of what it’s like to be perched atop the world he’s navigating.

Breaking down the lyrics, there are cavernous depths to the seemingly simplistic verses and choruses of ‘SKYBOX.’ From confronting systemic oppression to flaunting the spoils of success, each line peels back another layer of Gunna’s complex persona and underlines a narrative as much about overcoming as it is about outshining.

Elevating Beyond Reach – The Skybox as a Metaphor

While the skybox in a stadium gives an unparalleled view of the game below, in Gunna’s context, it symbolizes his own elevation above the commonplace struggles of the street. It’s about the separation between the artist and his roots, not necessarily in terms of forgetting where one comes from but appreciating how high one has soared. This skybox is less about exclusion and more about hard-won self-isolation atop one’s own empire.

Yet, the repeated refrain ‘getting high in the skybox’ also suggests a detachment from reality. Gunna paints a picture not only of physical altitude but of being mentally and emotionally untouchable. His skybox is a sanctum where societal rules blur into irrelevance; it’s a place sanctified by his achievements, drenched in luxury and excess.

The Threads of Success: Gucci Socks and Chrome Hearts

Gunna doesn’t just rap; he drapes his words in the finery of success. The name-dropping of high-end brands like Gucci and Chrome Hearts is not just for the braggadocio; it signals a transformation from the rags of his past to the riches adorning his present. The ‘Gucci socks, got ’em drippin” line is drenched in double entendre, showcasing both his wealth and the undeniable influence of his style and music.

Diamonds in Chrome Heart lenses reflect more than light; they emit the story of rising from opacity to clarity, from disregard to being in sharp focus. The designer tropes are his badges in the rap colosseum, serving as modern armor in a world that is always ready to belittle and battle those who succeed against the odds.

Hidden Among the Clouds – The Isolation of Success

A deeper dive into ‘SKYBOX’ uncovers a layered treatise on the solitude that accompanies success. ‘Bought a new Benz, lost some more friends’ is a potent acknowledgment of the dichotomy between material gain and personal loss. Each acquisition underscores a departure—an ironic twist where gaining speed in one’s career may mean leaving others behind on the journey.

In navigating the skies of his success, there’s a sense of Gunna flying solo, trusting fewer companions on his flight. The line ‘Trust done got thin, keep a FN’ reveals a worldview constantly wary of threats, and the need for self-protection despite his elevated stature. It’s an unspoken rule of the highfliers: the more you have, the less you trust.

Battle Cries and Victory – The Anthem of Triumph

Amidst the lyrical flexing, ‘SKYBOX’ resonates with martial undertones—a conqueror’s chant mingling with the laid-back braggadocio. Phrases like ‘bloodhound, mm, cold hard Crippin” and ‘fuck the cops, we can’t be stopped, just admit it’ ring out as rebel cries, epitomizing his triumph over and alienation from, a system designed to stifle such ascents. It is a declaration of self-sovereignty befitting his self-proclaimed G.O.A.T. status.

‘We keep it close, you with the folks’ signals fidelity to his chosen family, the solidarity with those who share his vision and struggle. Yet, lines like ‘paint the town, and slime committed’ signify a trailblazing force, reshaping the urban jungle in his effigy, coloring the world with his experiences and flying his banner high for the world to see.

Memorable Euphonies: The Lingering Echo of SKYBOX

There is a visceral stickiness to Gunna’s lyricism in ‘SKYBOX’ that goes beyond mere repetition. ‘We got all the vibes with it, head start, you can’t catch up, so forget it’ is more than a catchy hook; it’s a hypnotic manifesto of momentum. Gunna is not just ahead in the race; he’s rewriting the track as he goes, redefining the measures of success and distance.

The imagery of ‘screwed, chopped’ reflects an interplay with his Houston influences, which have themselves been influential within hip-hop. Further, lines such as ‘I’m in the castle fuckin’ a genie’ are not just scandalous—they rebel against the prescriptive narratives of storytelling in rap, blending fantasy with his raw reality. Each word reinforces the lush decadence of his life, cemented by rhythms that keep listeners in thrall.

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