Rap away your anger for god to let you into heaven,
Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son
Gotta get saved, 'cause i'd be rich in heaven
I like it cause she a ten, but she say i'm the one
Nine eleven seven seven eleven people up in heaven waitin for me
I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see
Your whack ass raps make your homie ashamed in heaven
We sometimes acknowledge the beat as from
Picture a place that they exist, together
Oh lord please up in heaven i'm down for whatever.
Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad
Pinch pitching for hitchcock up in heaven with pac
If i ever hand you some weed, it's free, you don't owe me none
Like being hood was some kind of god-given present from heaven.
We buy guns and more guns, to give to the young
That im collecting your debt, demons up in heaven,
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