Artist: Vince Staples f/ Hardo, Mac Miller Album: Stolen Youth (Mixtape) Song: Heaven Typed by: AZ Lyrics [Hardo] Fuck these bitches, I'm focused on business Got 'em running in the hood like I bought a new engine What these niggas try to save I'll spend in a minute All this money in the way, niggas ain't in my vision I was really on that block, I came up from nothin' Putting everything in it, it was all or nothin' Now these diamonds on my neck got all these bitches fuckin' With a kid, they used to sin, now I'm the one who fronted See this Rollie on my wrist, that thing glitter and gold Eatin' off this old bread, all these niggas go mold Middle fingers to the haters and niggas that told Money over everything, that's the way that I roll [Chorus: Mac Miller x2] I must have died and went to heaven Currently in shock, it'll hit me in a second What's your question, you need a blessin'... right? Or you're just wondering what heaven's like [Mac Miller] I got bitches, all I see is bitches, all I see is bitches Windows tinted Hide some people in it We extremely lifted Ain't no limits Kids defying physics Crucifying bitches Ain't your business how I spend my time, I got bigger fish to fry They telling lies, I swear to God Heaven left 'em mesmerized Everything ain't televised When it rain, then it shines Nevermind. Missing all the devil's signs Hellen Keller blind, you need eyes Then I'mma come and lend you mine Every time I start walking proud, they wanna chop chop chop chop me down I just wanna make out with Foxy Brown Monday nights, shit raw for now Close it up, yeah I lock it down Smoking blunts 'til I'm Gangnam Style Coughin' into my coffin now Have a bad bitch, money, and a crocodile With me Rest in peace to Pimp C Set me free Need ecstasy I just really wanna get my jet to leave Go and play the front 9 at Pebble Beach Just set some goals that I'll never reach Get you high, seven leaves, never peak Good energy 'til it's rest in peace [Chorus x2] Running out of hope, running wild cuz my momma close To dying while we broke, a youngest child, I always listened to my father When he spoke, because he'd been through it all A Chris Paul jersey hung on the wall in ninth grade Back when niggas only wanted to ball We used to steal from the mall and had to run from the guards But now we run from the law with guns stuffed in our drawers And all my chambers revolve cuz I can't risk gettin' caught I got too much on my plate, I think a better tomorrow is what I'm trying to make At least for most where I stay, I learned at a young age ain't no savin' 'em all See some problems is born too far gone to be solved I got a lot on my heart. Scorn the weary Never believin' no woman, cuz bitches lie on the frequent Live and die by this gun, niggas ain't shooting for fun So run your pockets, we need it [Chorus x2]