| Part the Red Sea in red Louboutins, who the don?
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| Walk inside the club with all his Gucci on, you’ve been warned
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| Packing heat like two LeBrons
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| And my crew is strong as Cali kush
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| It keep you (higher than heaven’s arms)
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| Gucci in my closet, pardon my head
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| Pardon my French, but I’m on my Nas shit, off with your head
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| Off with your bitch, she offered me head, I offered her dick
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| Slid my black card at the reception, now we off in the Ritz
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| I’m rolling this kush, she coughing and shit
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| Freak bitch named Jada love the LOX, I got her talkin' to Kiss
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| Got my hands behind my head, now she all in the splits
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| Dick must be good 'cause now she in Boston with bricks
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| Got a text on my iPhone, she caught with my shit
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| Off with a ten, she took it 'cause she’s far from a snitch
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| Hold her mama and her daddy down, got a sister at Georgetown
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| Paying her tuition so she ain’t gotta be strippin'
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| It’s money so I ain’t trippin', this bullshit get printed
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| Them banks get scoped out, black cars get rented
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| My Gucci suit tailored, my fade get tapered
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| You get sent to your maker, fuckin' around with my paper
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| Hard bottom Ferragamos, IQ too much for mediocre convo
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| I know a Farrakhan though, three-story condo
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| IPod shuffling between Common, Jay Electronica and Bono
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| Armado, the last words of Paul Castellano
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| Nothin' but endless paper and bitches for niggas I know
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| Smokin' Cheeba, feeding divas McDonald’s
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| All the way in Milano, ashin' out Cohibas
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| Fuckin' in that blue Aventador, the nose like Gonzo
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| Let a bitch get a breather, then she back hittin' high notes
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| Throwin' Louis luggage at dealerships, fuck a car note
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| 15's in everything, beating like Harpo
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| Rolling purple like Harpo, bitches by the car load
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| They wana see Prince, I’m pulling strings like Carlos
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| Santana, now we in Magic, Atlanta
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| Wipin' Ciroc off my Loubi’s with my Gucci bandana
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| Kanye with Kim now, I’m happy for that nigga
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| Disrespect him or his wifey, I’ll slap you for that nigga
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| Grew up listenin' to Pac, now I’m rappin' for that nigga
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| My brother been dead 20 years, I’m trappin' for that nigga
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| God Flow like Pusha n’em, rose Phantom pushin' 'em
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| Splittin' Louisville Sluggers open, puttin' kush in 'em
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| Ain’t forgot about the Twin Towers, I blame Bush for them
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| Obama can’t speak on it 'cause the government’s shushin' him
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| But that’s my nigga though, still stackin' figures
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| So one day I’m top 5 and I can politic with Jigga though
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| I was just trying to Blueprint myself behind Jigga, though
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| And all them old disses, yo, bullshit, Thibodeau
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| He be where the Summer be, I be where the Winter go
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| Tomahawk the Bugatti, Florida State Seminole
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| I’m out here tryna win a penant though
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| Never thought I’d be legendary, but fuck it I’m in it so |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Heaven's Arms , by - The Game. Song from the album Jesus Piece, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп