Lyrics:
If I make it to heaven
I hope they're still drinking brew
I hope I get to see Nick
Me and him have a few
Talk about '96
The shit that y'all
eyes you should see how much time I deprived of my self
Every day I sign in to life and disguise myself
Fuck having a friend, I just be by myself
I live
Hennessy, hangin' with the clowns
And all we used to do is drink brew
Screw and common knew
We had bitches by the dozens
We fuckin' cousins
You can throw your
sees it
It's therapy season!
You want album 3? Then give me a reason!
Why should I bother stressin' again?
Why should I wake up depression again?
Won't
Heaven
Heaven knows that I've made my mistakes
That God, what a guy as I say my grace
Who would of thought by making birds migrate
For the winter I be
(C-Sick)
Uh, soon as you here this verse, I'm out the record deal
They cheated twelve albums, four years, and that's a record still
Head
me
We've come a long way since H.O.C. (watch)
I live by the beat, I die by the beat, since 1990, I (I)
Live by the beat, I die by the beat, like
Well, we're here
This is it, this is the third album
This is East of Eden, welcome to the show ladies and gentlemen
It's really been a wild ride
(Where are you?)
Oh-oh
Oh
The Divine Feminine, an album by Mac Miller
Oh-oh (The Divine Feminine)
(The Divine Feminine) Oh
Am I supposed to?
I asked Gibbons if it was too
Soon and he said, "No, no, no"
Amy Winehouse died age 27
Now she's up there with
Patrick Swayze in heaven
This is my
school house was full, and they would come.
And we bought up every album, every picture, every single;
Their autographs were the only things free.
But
it's ya biggest fan
It's not even necessary to introduce who I am
by now, cuz we're good friends
Remember the letter I wrote, before Atlanta on Up In
enslaved the first empire
One world language, one world religion
One world order, we have learned nothing (one)
Make the keys to heaven a gift
open that front door
Interscope printed out right by the entrance, door closes
Not a metaphor, then I start towards
That front, that's right, where
myself
Homies losing confidence in music
I could start to tell
But I still dropped my album
By the week it just kept doing well
Used to think my mama hate
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
on building
Them boys just won't let go
Her house big like '90s clothes
Shit got an echo, echo
And I'm spacey, Kevin
Are we racing to heaven?
And I'm crazy,
the P.O.P.
The "cash on delivery" at the "point of purchase" - don't I be workin?
Heaven and hell is standin next to you at the same time
Cuttin into your
is like the farthest thing from heaven
This is hell and I don't mean that hyperbolic
I try to find employment even if it's wiping toilets
But these
ain't got to get all extremely too personal on your albums
When you not surrounded by bigger artists to fucking boost you
Nigga you called me, I didn't
furniture shopping, too busy burnin' you
Watching you, learning you
Word to Pac, I'm plottin' to murder you
Sure the thought can occur to you
My next album
This Hollywood Stel
Shit, got albums for free
And got albums for sale, ya
VBS on neck and wrist man I'm looking fly
Strap behind my Gucci
Since 89 I just wanted to be the best
So I studied the greats, sorta like it's a test
And I knew all they rhymes from last album to first
Every
an album that'll put a smile on Malcolm
Make Martin Luther tell God I'm the future for Heaven's talent
No tarot card reading; I'm foreseeing you niggas
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