Artist: The Game Album: Jesus Piece Song: Heaven's Arms Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro] "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) [Game] 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 [Chorus] [Interlude: repeat 2X] Ohhh-ohhh-ohhh-ohhhhh Higher than Heaven's arms [Game] 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 Cîroc off my Loubi's with my Gucci bandana Cause I [Chorus] + [Interlude] [Game] 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]