Gotta Make It To Heaven

[Hook:]
I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell
I gotta make it to Heaven, I gotta make it to Heaven
I gotta make it to Heaven for going through Hell
I gotta make it to Heaven, I hope I make it to Heaven.

[Verse 1:]
Some say I'm paranoid, I say I'm careful how I choose my friends
I been to ICU once, I ain't going again
First Z got murked then Roy got murked
And homie still in the hood, why he ain't getting hurt?
I smell something fishy, man, it might be a rat
Damn, niggas switching sides on niggas just like that
You know me, I stay with a bitch on her knees
And give guns away in the hood like it's government cheese
Spray off Suzuki's, eleven hundred cc's
No plate on the back, straight squeezing the MAC
In the hood they identify niggas by their cars
So I switch up whips to stay off the radar
I ain't gotta be around to make shit hot
I'll send Yayo to dump 30 shots on your block
You should spray that TEC, nigga, if I say get it done
I'll make you wet niggas if you 'round me son.

[Hook]

[Verse 2:]
When I come through the hood I don't stop to rap to niggas
Get close enough to smack then I'll clap ya nigga
Pop tried to front so I waved the chrome on his ass
Point blank range I spazzed, pulled a bone on his ass
Two weeks later niggas came through with Mac's to lay me down
They sprayed, I played dead and got the fuck off the ground
Out the blue I get a phone call: "Fifty what up?"
"They sent a bitch at me, I sent the bitch back cut up"
I don't play that pussy shit, I done told you, boy
Front on me you gon' meet one of my soldiers, boy
Cousin Twin shot up his mamma crib, now he in jail
Tripping off flicks of Blu Cantrell, pussy, and black tail
Pop mama moved, but she don't talk to him no mo'
The shells from Twin's fo'-fo' blew the hinge off her door
Without that check every month how she going to pay for the crib?
Man, social service finna come and take them kids.

[Hook]

[Verse 3:]
Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference
In AA they make you say that
That's the prayer they burn in your head when you a case act
Man, I might talk to you while we up in them pens
But when we come home that don't mean we going to fucking be friends
The shells pass your head close enough to hear them whistle
Thank God they missed you and go grab your pistol
In the hood niggas running 'round acting crazy
Buying little Air Jordans for maybe babies
See it might be his and it might be yours
Because them broads in the projects is straight up whores
Man, it don't take much for you to get in them drawers
You can have them on their back or on all fours
You ain't got to tell me, you feeling this shit
Because I hear what I'm saying, I know I'm killing this shit.

[Hook]