Lyrics

[Verse]
Doves fly low, shadows creep in the mirror,
Golden gates framed by a fogged atmosphere-a—
Saints in Jordans, wings iced like a freezer,
Playing dice with destiny, stakes get steeper.

[Verse 2]
Metal chains clink, soundtracks the parade,
Angels toss halos, street gods get paid—
No harp, just a beat knock, savage serenade,
Chirping Glock-pitched melodies, dreams handmade.

[Chorus]
Is there heaven for a gangster, where the streets meet the clouds,
Turn the dirt into champagne beneath the shroud,
Brick roads to a throne where the faithful ain't loud,
Paradise with the scars we been proud.

[Verse 3]
Halo tilted, cufflinks stained by the block,
Verses inscribed in tattoos, eternal clock—
Eulogies written in neon-painted chalk,
Memory lane paved with golden Ciroc.

[Bridge]
Smoke from cigars coils toward the glow,
Hymns remixed with bass drops, steady flow—
Choirs of the hustle hum rhythmic cargo,
Prayed rosaries, gripped heat, dodging sorrow.

[Chorus]
Is there heaven for a gangster, where the streets meet the clouds,
Turn the dirt into champagne beneath the shroud,
Brick roads to a throne where the faithful ain't loud,
Paradise with the scars we been proud.