Prophe-C - Heart of Gold

So obsessed with getting rich
I showed you my heart of gold
Don't tell me that you're a bitch
That excuse is getting old
San Diego Hella warm
Friday nights it likes to snow
Tap in with your higher thoughts
Shaqy on his tippy toes

I thought about quitting rap
Can't do that shit to my bro
I got to much morals to be out here fucking tipsy hoes
So I'm chilling in the stu
Some how digging into you
This drink kinda hitting me
Hope this song is hitting you

I hope that that paper cuts your ass when you start counting it
I hope that your patience running thin when you around with him
I hope that you run into my new bitch at the mall
I hope that you feel so fucking stupid when I ball
Sike I'm not the bitter type
I'm not trynna pick a fight
I thought you were hella bad
Knew we weren't really right
So obsessed with getting rich
I showed you my heart of gold
Don't tell me that you're a bitch
That excuse is getting old
San Diego Hella warm
Friday nights it likes to snow
Tap in with your higher thoughts
Shaqy on his tippy toes

Written by:
Christian Padilla

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find