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letra de heaven - precise conner

(verse 1)
i had a dream that i died and went to heaven…/
i met this fraulein, and she stood at 5’7”
foreign baddie, she rode shotgun in a caddy…/
if she was real, i woulda been her baby daddy
this track heaven sent, everything is god’s gifts/
mad intelligent, cats act like they innocent
i caught you lackin, now you’re backing on up/
very soon, you’ll pray you wasn’t acting tough
so what the f-ck you thought it was, you know my style’s better/
pour another gl-ss, as we smash amaretto…
kick the new style, nothing more, nothing lesser/
the mastermind cometh, apply more pressure
your rhymes are mediocre, your whole reign is over/
the birds flock together, i’m the ghetto casanova
explode on a beat, and blast off like krakatoa/
my rhymes lace your neck, get direct, i’m colder
than any n-gg- who thought they was better than me/
step into the world of the pre…
i am the phantom, rhyming past n-gg-s on the block/
fake b-tches tryna spit game, them hoes getting dropped
southside till i die, you know how i do it…/
some n-gg-s play with it, but my life will be music
you knew this, how you thought you was gonna be strong?/
if you know this song, sing along…

(hook)
i’m a weed smoker, all around toker…/
deep stroker, put my d-ck in her mouth and watch me choke her…

(verse 2)
approach my kingdom, you all be done for…/
blaze you like a black, i attack forevermore
what else in store for you wack n-gg-s on the scene?/
say your sh-t nice, well n-gg-, f-ck your team
jack the ripper, i hit you with some sh-t that’s hardcore/
slice your neck and your ear off like you was van gogh
shooting spree, clipping and hitting behind closed doors/
once the sh-t’s finished, we dip and change clothes
you can’t trace it nor erase it, just face it…/
the master lyricist be i, why would i fake sh-t?
as i remember this girl from virginia/
cheeks was m-ssive and i wanted to enter
no pretender, you gotta see what i’m talking bout/
waited so long for the time i could cash out
keep laughing, i’m dragging lil n-gg-s to the brickyard/
get lit, y’all, lil shortie got my d-ck hard…
f-ck it, you know i rips it hard like the paper/
i’m blasting motherf-ckers, digging graves, undertaker
pre, i got the game hot like potato…/
and i got more green than the gr-ss in jamaica
what it be like? k!lling all your hype…/
you had a good run, but you ain’t precise
so don’t act like you could blaze me, amaze me/
in a battle, snake rattle, so don’t try to play me
it’s abc, elementary, my dear watson…/
don’t get too close, cuz the streets is watching
f-ck a randall, i got more sh-t to handle/
like -ss and t-tties, i smash them in every city
i could go, i flow whether in slo-mo/
or fast like flo-jo, you can’t f-ck with steelo
smooth as the operator, the heartbreaker/
dip it low and wine it like you was a salt shaker
precision is the best, k!ll sh-t in any contest/
we don’t rest, dropping these raps, now holla back…

(repeat hook, song ends)

- precise conner

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