[Intro] I’m on that e-e-elevated plane, brain levitating out the frame, Hearing shadows whisper names like they’re plotting in the grain, But I’m calm… mostly… probably… maybe not… let’s begin. [Verse 1] Hit that indica cathedral, watch my heartbeat do the sequel My perception going regal, every puff another peak and Now the room is speaking languages illegal, cerebral I’m decoding paranoia like a scholar hunting evil. Toke heavy, thoughts bend, I resurrect the dead end See the drywall breathe again, oxygen’s a fake friend Every ripple in the ceiling morphs into a serpent grin And I’m still rolling up the next like “pass it back, let’s ascend.” Hearing ringing, singing, voices in a spiral spinning Win or sinning, grinning while my molecules are thinning Elevation got me splitting into quantum double visions I’m a one-man superstition cooking chaos in the kitchen. Brain buzz, tongue drip, stoned like ancient hieroglyphs Lifted in the myth abyss with THC apocalypse I’m a prophet talking nonsense while the cosmos pumps my fists Got a halo made of Funyuns, call it snack-based Genesis. [Hook] Elevation, elevation, I’m too high for explanation Hear the walls in conversation while my soul negotiates them Every puff’s a revelation, smarter than my limitations Mind is running simulations of a stoned reincarnation. [Verse 2] I hear footsteps in the carpet every time the beat drops Hear the neighbors binge complaining but they never leave spots Hear my lighter talk back, judging how the flame pops Hear the bong water preaching like a priest with beatbox. Trip logic, neuro-chaotic, THC mnemonic prophet Every thought’s a fiber-optic topic I unlock and rocket Push the rhyme to catastrophic, stutter syllables to stop it Elevation got me cosmic, I’m the king of hydroponic. Eyes red, tongue numb, heartbeat with a tribal drum Puff loud like a riot gun, paranoia’s kinda fun Voices in my head say “run,” but the couch said “nah you done” So I spark the next one up and let my soul come undone. [Outro] I’m on that elevation tip Higher than a ghost ship Hearing every whisper in the walls like they wrote scripts Mind drift, cosmic lift, THC apocalypse If weed is a religion, then I’m already the pontiff.
