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Artist: The Game
Album:  Jesus Piece
Song:   Heaven's Arms
Typed by: 

"How can I lead these people out of bondage?
 What words can I speak that they will heed?"
"I will teach thee what thou wilt say."

[Chorus: Game]
Part the Red Sea in red Louboutins, who the don?
Walk inside the club with all this Gucci on, you've been warned
Packin +Heat+ like two LeBrons, and my crew is strong
This Cali kush'll keep you (higher than Heaven's arms)

Gucci in my closet, pardon my head
Pardon my French but I'm on my Nas shit, off with your head
Off with your bitch, she offered me head, I offered her dick
Slid my Black Card at reception, now we off in the Ritz
I'm rollin this kush, she coughin and shit
Freak bitch named Jada love The Lox, I got her talkin to 'Kiss
Got my hands behind my head, now she all in the splits
Dick must be good cause now she in Boston with bricks
Got a text on my iPhone, she caught with my shit
Off with a ten, she took it cause she far from a snitch
Hold her momma and her daddy down, got her sister at Georgetown
Payin that tuition so she ain't gotta be strippin
It's money so I ain't trippin, this bullshit get printed
Them banks get scoped out, black cars get rented
My Gucci suit tailored, my fade get tapered
You get sent to your maker, fuckin 'round with my paper
Cause I


[Interlude: repeat 2X]
Higher than Heaven's arms

Hard bottom Ferragamos
IQ too much for, mediocre convo
I know a Farrakhan though, three-story condo
iPod shufflin between Common, Jay Electronica and Bono
Armado, the last words of Paul Castellano
Nothin but endless paper and bitches for niggaz I know
Smokin Cheeba, feedin divas McDonald's
All the way in Milano - ashin out Cohibas
Fuckin in that blue Aventador, the nose like Gonzo
Let a bitch get a breather then she back hittin high notes
Throwin Louis luggage at dealerships, fuck a car note
15's in everything, beatin like Harpo
Rollin +Purple+ like Harpo, bitches by the car load
They wana see Prince, I'm pullin strings like Carlos
Santana, now we in Magic's, Atlanta
Wipin CÓroc off my Loubi's with my Gucci bandana
Cause I

[Chorus] + [Interlude]

Kanye with Kim now, I'm happy for that nigga
Disrespect him or his wifey I'll slap you for that nigga
Grew up listenin to 'Pac, now I'm rappin for that nigga
My brother been dead 20 years, I'm trappin for that nigga
+God Flow+ like Pusha and them, rose Phantom pushin 'em
Splittin Louisville Sluggers open, puttin kush in them
Ain't forgot about the Twin Towers, I blame Bush for them
Obama can't speak on it cause the government's shushin him
But that's my nigga though, still stackin figures so
one day I'm Top 5 and I can politic with Jigga though
I was just tryin to +Blueprint+ myself behind Jigga though
And all them old disses yo, +Bull+shit, Thibodeau
He be where the +Summer+ be, I be where the winter go
Tomahawk the Bugatti, Florida State Seminole
I'm out here tryin to win a pennant though
Never thought I'd be legendary but fuck it I'm in it so I

[Chorus] + [Interlude]