Burghtown - Ceiling Is The Sky (feat. Ms Ryte) lyrics

[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