Lola Young Drops ‘d£aler’ – It Slaps Hard
Lola Young is showing true mastery of songwriting mixed with infectious rhythm.
In d£aler, 
Lola Young strips back the artifice and lays her emotional landscape bare. The song doesn’t flirt with melodrama—it punches through the numbness of addiction, heartbreak, and self-loathing with disarmingly plain language. This isn’t a track dressed up in metaphors or poetic escapism; it’s a snapshot of a psyche in slow motion, unraveling.
The song opens with a quiet devastation:
“I spent all day tryna be sober / I drowned in my misery, crawled up on the sofa”
There’s no buildup, no soft intro. We’re thrown straight into the internal wreckage. Young isn’t performing sadness—she’s reporting it, almost offhandedly. The casual tone of “crawled up on the sofa” makes the image all the more brutal, like a diary entry scribbled at 2 a.m. and forgotten the next morning.
The chorus turns resignation into a twisted kind of fantasy.
“I wanna get away, far from here / Pack my bags, my drugs and disappear”
She wants to vanish—physically, emotionally, maybe even existentially. The idea of leaving a note with the “next door neighbour who don’t give a shit” lands like a gut punch. It’s darkly funny, but also telling. Even the people around her are indifferent, and she knows it.
And then there’s the song’s title line:
“Tell my dealer I’ll miss him”
It’s delivered with just enough irony to sting. The dealer becomes a stand-in for every unhealthy crutch she’s leaned on. There’s a weird intimacy there—not just addiction, but dependence, connection, routine. Missing the dealer means missing the whole grim structure of this life she’s trying to run from.
In the second verse, the aimlessness continues:
“Spent all week just tryna do something / Maybe I should take a walk, but fuck all the running”
Even trying to function feels performative, pointless. She’s in that space where doing anything feels futile, but doing nothing makes the self-disgust worse. It’s a mental spiral anyone who’s ever been depressed can recognize instantly.
What makes d£aler powerful isn’t just the lyrics—it’s how they’re delivered. Lola Young sings like someone who’s not asking for help anymore. She’s past the point of trying to fix anything; she’s just calling it as she sees it. That emotional exhaustion runs through every word.
This track doesn’t beg for sympathy. It’s not about redemption or epiphany. It’s a brutally honest postcard from the edge, signed with a shrug. In a sea of overproduced breakup anthems and self-care slogans, d£aler is something rare: raw, unfiltered realism set to music.