They told me heaven got a gate, I said, “Cool, who built it?”
If pain the ticket in, then my soul already filled it.
Every sin I own got a verse and a rent,
Every prayer I wrote got a scar for intent.
Ain’t no angels where I’m from, just dreams in debt,
Ain’t no free grace, just what you sweat.
They preach peace, I just preach earn,
Every flame in my past still burn.
You can’t beg mercy if you won’t bleed truth,
Can’t wear crowns if you scared of proof.
So I walk this road with my sins unhid,
Still thank God for the dirt I did.

Ain’t no free heavens, no cheap grace,
You pay with your pain or you leave no trace.
Ain’t no pass for the ones who fake,
If you want the sky, you earn the weight.
No free heavens, no easy win,
You can’t rise clean from the mess you’re in.
Yeah, I fight my gods, I doubt, I sin —
But at least I show up again.

They said peace come calm — I say peace come tough,
Comin’ from where they patch wounds with bluff.
Every man here built faith on flaws,
Every saint I know still break laws.
Got baptized in smoke and debt,
Still pray slow with a cold regret.
If heaven got locks, I’ll pick ‘em all,
Kick that gate with a southern drawl.
You can’t scare hell with your Bible quote,
Can’t fake soul with a borrowed note.
I been judged by men, still blessed by hurt,
Still dig gold out the graveyard dirt.

Ain’t no free heavens, no cheap grace,
You pay with your pain or you leave no trace.
Ain’t no pass for the ones who fake,
If you want the sky, you earn the weight.
No free heavens, no easy win,
You can’t rise clean from the mess you’re in.
Yeah, I fight my gods, I doubt, I sin —
But at least I show up again.

They want blessings without the bruise,
Light without the burn, gain without lose.
But I seen God in the broke and bleak,
In the junkyard prayers of the proud and weak.
If mercy cheap, it ain’t real,
If it don’t cut deep, it can’t heal.
I’d rather crawl to peace than be handed fame,
‘Cause heaven free don’t mean the same.

Yeah, I’m half grace, half grit,
Half peace, half pit.
Every loss got me more legit,
Every scar still fit the script.
Faith ain’t pretty, it’s jagged, raw,
Holy words with a cracked jaw.
Still spit gospel in a barroom tone,
Still build thrones outta broken stone.
So if God count pain like worth, I’m rich,
Ain’t no free sky for a soul like this.

Ain’t no free heavens, no cheap grace,
You pay with your pain or you leave no trace.
Ain’t no pass for the ones who fake,
If you want the sky, you earn the weight.
No free heavens, no easy win,
You can’t rise clean from the mess you’re in.
Yeah, I fight my gods, I doubt, I sin —
But I’ll always rise again.

If heaven’s for sale,
then I’ll build mine from the ground.