I’m gone to heaven mama

Gone to heaven, but the crackheads still fall, no wings on their back, just echoes in the hall. Prostitutes on the block, still scraping for that dime, bodies bruised, hearts abused, living past prime. But I’m done pretending, no more acting nice, I’m rising through the smoke like a loaded dice. Going up, going up, till the sky feels thin, singing loud with the angels—let the real win! Gone up to heaven, but the junkies keep tumbling, they laughed when I spat—said my flow was fumbling, popping fucking pills just to mock my skills, said I’d never rise, left me feeding the mills. But now? Every bar hits like ice on spine, give em chills, now they replay my lines. I keep it real—no filter, no fake, bringing heat so raw, make the whole damn city quake. Nothing to lose but my mot Sorry mama, yeah I was a total fuck-up, lost in the smoke while you prayed my luck up. Always knew you were queen of this damn game, told me “come to me baby” but I showed you the shame. I know, I know, blame weighs heavy on my chest, but I’m rapping now—watch these syllables manifest. One day you’ll smile when my name hits the fame,