Lyrics
(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)
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.
