Gotta Make It To Heaven (ibemix)
If you want Hardcore Rap, then this is what you want. Tells you a couple of things that I've been through in the passed years.
Lyrics
Yeah, bring that chorus in one time
Chorus:
I gotta make it to heaven, for goin through hell
I gotta make it to heaven, I gotta make it to heaven
I gotta make it to heaven, for goin through hell
I gotta make it to heaven, I hope I make it to heaven
(Repeat)
Verse 1:
Yo, I got it all at my fingertips, read it and weep
All the sh** that I go through week by week
On Monday I like to go out and let my gun play
You’re on a +Highway To Hell+ in the middle of the runway
Tuesday, that’s gonna be your dooms day
Livin’ amuck, not givin a f*** about what you say
Wednesday, I switch up whips, I’m in the Benz day
Girl you can have it however, just let your friends play
Thursday, I'm back at it again
I’ll flock on yo block and let my birds sway
Friday, know I’m finna do things my way
F*** a driveway, I park right in your driveway
Saturday, watch n*** z scatter away
When I bust shots just to make my pockets fatter Jay
Sunday, I have to have a good day someday
Sittin back chillin in church watchin your mom pray
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
When you see me in the streets, that’s just me doin my job
Catch me in church cause a n*** believes in God
People out there want me dead cause they ass got robbed
Or thrown to the concrete, and stomped and mobbed
I don’t wanna break it down to ya, but f*** it I will
B.G., who you tryna get buck wit for real?
I’ma skinny n*** , you a fat overweight punk
I coulda had this chump tied up and dumped in my trunk
But I left you in the street, in the pourin rain
Motionless and retarded with a cut on your brain
When you got up you started stutterin and mutterin words
Looked up to the sky and seen something other than birds
Size 12’s crushin your skull, face the heat
Big hungry n*** got a lil taste of da feet (defeat)
Come back at The Realist nig' if that’s what you want
But you'll be damned if you do, and be damned if you don't
(Chorus)
Verse: 3
I’m not Rice Crispies, but I make it +Snap-Crackle-N-Pop+
I copped a block and made Shackelford rock
I took that little thing to the top, without swingin a glock
Cause so and so kept on bringin in rocks
But didn't have the balls to chop down his family tree
So what does he do? This muh f*** a hands it to me
And expects me to go out there and ruin my fame
But I'm down to put in work and stay true to the game
You know me, I stay wit a b*** in the whip
And I stay away from a snitch when I'm pitchin a brick
But somehow the cops knew about us hittin the blunts
Talkin all that sh** 'bout how they was gonna kick in the front
But I'm real in the hood, kept a pistol in hand
Right now call me Elmo cause ya tickle me man
It's like ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I think I'ma die tonight cause I ain't leavin in cuffs
(Chorus)
(Repeat)
