[Verse 1: Prototype]
I watch Nova
I theorize bout the candle lights and the St Ides, Casanova
What if we were sober and we seen the truth
For we were never meant, you heaven sent
And I was just a prophet, trying to get my word out while up in the booth
It's time to leave the Earth again baby, it was magic
Sitting on that front stoop watching the time pa**ing
Don't worry, this is just another chapter
We are closer to our gods as we enter into the rapture
Time to take it all in, I'm fin to get it poppin'
The prophets that I walk with, they only like to talk sh**
So in your eyes we false then until we meet a faucet
Babygirl the waterfall, get her grown woman on
Wetter than a motherf**er, gotta turn the shower on
Guess that's why they call it flow...guess that's why they call it spit
Hand me inspiration, yeah her spirit on some goddess sh**
Got me on a power trip, Visine can't take the red off
Pop em, make em cough red, take a n***a head off
Gotta flee the city, flee the state, flee the country now
McGuyver-like escape, I'm a geyser, you can't hold me down
[Hook: Gift Money and Ms. Ryte]
It's that real type of music that you bang in your ride
What the f**'s a ceiling if your ceiling is the sky
Yeah, yeah, your ceiling is the sky
Uh, uh, your ceiling is the sky
[Verse 2: Gift Money]
Precipitation make it rain motherf**er
I thunderstorm, bring the pain motherf**er
Got suicidal haters, n***as might as well k** themselves
I'm super thug, feel no pain, don't compare yourself
I swear to God, Burghtown like a military
Bend the track, bang the b**h, hit it missionary
What it is...n***as must be out they
Cotton picking mind, Burghtown do it grande
Car chase, big guns and guitar case
Desperado flow, crack like an open
Up, up and away, you say you sick, my pen got AIDS
Mouth will click clack...my Adam's apple disengage
Godzilla motherf**er, kicking paper planes
Got my notebook like, "n***a take the ink away"
Fresh motherf**er...opium cologne
Ceiling Fan Music be the type of sh** we on
Grown a** man, I don't do that Dougie
Jack move rap fools then we count that money
Yeah, yeah now count that money
Shining all the time and everyday be sunny
[Hook: Gift Money and Ms. Ryte]
It's that real type of music that you bang in your ride
What the f**'s a ceiling if your ceiling is the sky
Yeah, yeah, your ceiling is the sky
Uh, uh, your ceiling is the sky
[Spoken Word: Prototype]
Peep what the sky holds...I can see her
She shines like quasar
Never to be overshadowed by the dying star
But instead to collapse like the weight of the celestial being turning in upon itself
Heavy sh**...heavy sh** but I lift that like chain from around my neck
Like a feather, huh
As we blow cloud like nebula
Hot like Mercury
As in either or the first rock...slash tip of the thermometer
This keeps our heads spinning like Andromeda
We are NASA
And so does Terra do a 360 degree spin sederically...lyrically
f** a ceiling
f** a ceiling
f** a ceiling