June Prod - Ceilings Lyrics

One, two, three, four
Bury me in a sweater vest
Just in case Trump do his best
F*ck around and start a Cold War
Chill in my coffin ain't no stress
JFK rocked in a sweater vest
Mom and dad saw him on the set
Milk and lunch for the children
He wrote A Nation of Immigrants
Everybody wanna talk shit
They don't know about no consequence
Negative energy in the air
Holding my breath so I don't get infected
Always talking 'bout a "back then"
Happiness always in past tense
If you hit me with that bullshit
Yo sigo hablando in Spanish
Ima start pushing out projects
Just so that I feel accomplished
Can't let it go to your conscious
If you cannot f*ck with that mindset
If you cannot f*ck with that mindset
Then get the f*ck out the way
Do not call me an asshole
When you gettin' f*cked everyday
I am what I do
Excellence ain't an act but a habit
Progress is key in a a race you're the rabbit
Fighting for a spot, you know Ima have it
Do this shit daily, I tell them it's practice
Thinking I'm crazy, they say I'm an addict
Then they fall off and complain, man that's tragic
Blessings on blessings falling from the attic
Ain't no love for the ceiling
Ain't no fear for the ceiling
Ain't no hate for the ceiling
Ain't no higher than the ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
But we keep thinking 'bout it
Ain't no love for the ceiling
Ain't no fear for the ceiling
Ain't no hate for the ceiling
Ain't no higher than the ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
But we keep thinking 'bout it
One, two, three (Shh)
Blessings from my attic
Bitch this shit ain't automatic
I be working for my future
And God be like "boy that's cracking"
"Are you happy?" (Well I'm not sad)
"Then you need to keep on rapping
If ambition what you lacking
Then they gonna send you packing"
Pad to pen
I'm gripping the wood like I starred in Wilfred
A lie should never deliver with friends
UPS knocking on the wrong address
You seen us scratching for chicken, low check
You seen us marching all over your fence
Usually I don't say shit to the rest
Air 'em out, air 'em out
I need to vent
Black flag, black flag
I'm coming through with the business (I'm coming through with the business)
Mad stacks, mad stacks
I'm Jesse Pinkman on the weekend
Rap, rap, rap, rap
I'm double trouble with they keys
That's facts, facts, facts
I stay convincing nonbelievers
Mineral dripping like San Pellegrino
Future binoculars like I got cheat codes
Repping CR, bitch I ain't a gringo
Pilot the 'Rar soon as I see the green, go
Paving the way for my fam to come through
Saving the dough cause I gotta makefood
Red in the eyes but the fingers are blue
Why do I try? What's it to you
You, you, what's it to you
Paving the way for my fam to come through
Saving the dough cause I gotta makefood
Red in the eyes but the fingers are blue
Blue, blue, fingers are blue
Ink in my veins, don't f*ck up my mood
Bitch, don't f*ck up my mood
Ain't no love for the ceiling
Ain't no fear for the ceiling
Ain't no hate for the ceiling
Ain't no higher than the ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
But we keep thinking 'bout it
Ain't no love for the ceiling
Ain't no fear for the ceiling
Ain't no hate for the ceiling
Ain't no higher than the ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
No such thing as a ceiling
But we keep thinking 'bout it