|
The drama started up in Heaven, chilling when the phone rang |
|
It was Saint Peter, he said get the heater |
|
We have new angels, in their eyes I saw sin |
|
They came to the gates and I wouldn't let 'em in |
|
Homeland security's tighter up in Heaven |
|
Ever since 9/11 |
|
Anyway, back to the phone call Saint Peter said |
|
Motherfuckers bum rushed me, punched me in the head |
|
Threw up gang signs, couldn't hear what was said |
|
Took the keys, shot me, left me there for dead |
|
Still breathing but bleeding, bullets start to sting |
|
Couldn't fly so I called the hospital of kings |
|
Choir wanna solo, I will never sing |
|
They tried to say the doctors had to amputate my wing |
|
Took a spot, set up shop, selling dust to angels |
|
We work hard for that, get the guns, it's time to tango |
|
[Chorus:] |
|
Hey you get off my cloud |
|
You don't know me and you don't know my style |
|
Hey you get off my cloud |
|
Try to take Heaven but I gotta give you hell |
|
Hey you get off my cloud |
|
You don't know me and you don't know my style |
|
Hey you get off my cloud |
|
Try to take Heaven but I gotta give you hell |
|
[Verse 2:] |
|
Motherfuckers got me filled with anger |
|
Clouds in Heaven being run by some strangers |
|
Angels wasn't normal, naughty little devils |
|
They said fuck everybody, independent rebels |
|
To prove a point they executed Michael |
|
In broad daylight, then repeated cycle |
|
Murdered Gabriel then said the cloud is ours |
|
You bitches up here, you don't want no war |
|
That's what one said, he had a wife, he beat her |
|
It was clear to me that he was the leader |
|
Rocked a platinum halo with diamonds on it |
|
Pumping a cd, he was rhyming on it |
|
The beats was hot, could've had better timing on it |
|
Anyway, I said that to say this |
|
Selling all that angel dust in Heaven made 'em rich |
|
High rollers, they heated up and got colder |
|
Now selling dope, they got it on smash |
|
Other angels can't cope and they wanna kill they ass |
|
The higher-ups know they making cash, they on the take |
|
Gotta grease they palms, Heaven is political |
|
Movement take muscle when getting physical |
|
Mind over matter on the cloud is getting critical |
|
(Critical) What we gonna do? |
|
What we gonna do? |
|
[Chorus] |
|
[Verse 3:] |
|
The leader was arrogant, walked with a swagger |
|
Even when he flew, he did that snotty too |
|
Couldn't take no more, flap wings, got the pistol |
|
Demons think we sloppy, break 'em off proper |
|
Didn't have a vest, too vain, he didn't need that |
|
Shot him in his chest, blew the feathers off his back |
|
That set it off, the war was on |
|
Thought he was a king but he was only a pawn |
|
Crew turned to cowards once their leader was gone |
|
Bullets start to shower, angels start to shiver |
|
Blood start to drip until it made a river |
|
No angel police, this was settled on the streets |
|
Looked the other way, a word they didn't say |
|
Cause they all knew someone's gonna pay |
|
Chase the demons outta here, got back our flow |
|
Keep it moving niggas, we had to let them know |
|
[Chorus] |
|
(Word up) |
|
The bottom line is we got it back |
|
Back in business |
|
Something goes down, if a bag is sold I want our cut |
|
I want a cut |
|
I want in on everything |