Apollo Brown - Good Things Die lyrics

Published

0 275 0

Apollo Brown - Good Things Die lyrics

[Sample] "Don't let a good thing die Cause honey you know, I'll never lie to you" [Verse 1: Verbal Kent] With all the beauty in my life, hit the mic 'till the lights out Bet Barrack play this in the White House when his wife's out I got that good sh**, hood sh** Purple with them orange veins People say that yours taste like a wood chip You rookies push sh**, million dollar rapper, DiBiase on the mic While you all is sloppy like the brothers Bushwack Pop had put his co*k in momma's bush back In '78, the doc saw my face and tried to push back Wear helmets on all limbs or all ribs broken I'm an angel of d**h and d**h adapt and taking what the Lord gives What gives? Every written's all fibs Ya'll bids phony, fishier than dolphins You're mermaids, sayin' Verb ain't relevant It's like using dog bags pickin' up the turd of an elephant Sayin' you ain't feelin' it, you full of sh**, fell in it Wipe off and shut your mic off before I yell in it [Hook: Verbal Kent] "Don't let a good thing die" See any day could be your last, quit living in the past kid "Don't let a good thing die" You want drama, take a cla**, get your PhD "Don't let a good thing die" See any moment I could pop out and leave you seein' asterisks "Don't let a good thing die" Cause when it comes to spittin' raps I got my PhD [Verse 2: Red Pill] Now Verbal's said he's having fun So I said "f** it let me join in." No avoidin' it, appointed let the static run These half-a-ton rappers claiming they ready I have the sun wrapped around my neck, chain gettin' heavy I got the planets aligning with the planning to sign it Then have them standing in line to see me ranting and rhyming They ga**ing you up with all those additives lying You buying that sh**, what kind of f**ing planet am I in? I'm off that, respect gettin' respect it's nothing left for the rest I f**ing called it so I'm getting it next I got the sh** to make 'em f**ing feel something deep and something real Surface-level rappers wonder why they don't f**ing appeal We give them real sh**, real sh** I want to be that rapper that they feel like they could go get a meal with Or split a cab with or share a tab with My mother call me Chris, I give a f** about this rap sh** [Hook]

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.