Heartache (feat. B.S.)

Yeah

Yeah

If the weed aint sticky I don't roll it
You niggas be talking too much like Edward Snowden
Use to sell quarter pieces out of a Ford Focus
Cut from a different cloth the son of Odin
Curt Angle niggas keep you in a sleeper holding
AMG coupe look like the skin of a Mantue Bol an
Biggest pack you ever seen your uncle was holding
I remember them nights we got warm by the stove and
Because of them nights thats why I cook grams over the stove and
Big nigga, catch shit, run wit it like Anqaun Bolden
Psychic nigga, two shells is what your future holding
Tweaker bitch selling pussy for ten dollars her soul is broken

Up at fox hills, we at the mall
I ain't buying shit
I be a tight mother fucker and I'm proud of it
Only here to crack a bitch
That's down to ride in my dusty whip
My style is all natural
5 star restaurant I'm still casual
(Still casual)
Rapping over dusty loops
Be hella magical
I like my progress going vertical

Yeah

All my loved ones is irreplaceable
Through all the bull shit
We philosophical
Remember nights I ain't really understand
(Ain't understand)
Like being with my pops on the weekends
He seen a vacant apartment
Now we gotta place to stay
He told us to huddle up to
The make the shivers go away
Getting picked up on the next day (Uh)
Grateful for the place I get to stay
Praying for my pops to have better days
(Better days)
But deep down I know that shit ain't gone change
Dear pops I hope you find your way