Apostle. - No More

Chase the money 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
The music got a hold on me
Knocking at the door
It's a passion and I feel in the bones, to the core
I chase it 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
And if a nigga turn into a road block
I'm breaking the cement until remains stay scattered on the floor
Chase the money 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
The music got a hold on me
Knocking at the door
It's a passion and I feel in the bones, to the core
I chase it 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
And if a nigga turn into a road block
I'm breaking the cement until remains stay scattered on the floor
When I step into the spot
The bird's chirping and the neck start shining
The kingdom has arrived I think my crown need alignment
I bring you to the status if you need to read the comments
I could Face the Book and
Kill all of my demons and the tridents
I can bring you to the top
I'm stumbling the rocks
The wrist on bolts like the G without the Shock
I'm boiling up in daylight like the
Tea without the pot
I sprinkle jewelry on your box like I been seasoning the block, uh
Yea, Glock go bow
Washing off the talent got my lyrics on a towel
Smacking niggas up with twenty pounds of verbs and nouns
Couple years from now I'm throwing water in the crowds
On some Pax shit
Perfect from the practice
Your tracks too dry like a desert with a cactus
Fiends on the crack shit
Facials too attractive
The bitches get the memo when they see me in the
Pack spitting crack let's go
Chase the money 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
The music got a hold on me
Knocking at the door
It's a passion and I feel in the bones, to the core
I chase it 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
And if a nigga turn into a road block
I'm breaking the cement until remains stay scattered on the floor
These niggas capping please show me the proof
I break the box the minute that they hear me spitting the truth
I throw the C4, Warzone, blowing the roof
JOKR blast a nigga up when they be driving the coup
We driving in suits
Or hoodied up, Timberland boots
G Star's in the spot, different chains in the group
The opposition is the white cars in Zimmerman suits
They tryin' to break a generation down we sending the troops
But we got bands in the spot though, see me in the lots though
I take you to the honcho, bring you to the top bros
Getting to the bag, chase chips, get the nachos
We loaded up with bills, big domes, and the hot chromes
Uh, blast a nigga face off
Once the bag secured, me and my niggas get to takeoff
Crawling in the dark for the cash with the doors
But I'm blind to the bullshit like Ray Charles
Cooking with the same jawns
Chase the money 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
The music got a hold on me
Knocking at the door
It's a passion and I feel in the bones, to the core
I chase it 'til the sun don't shine no more
Getting to the bag
Coming from the slums, from the poor
And if a nigga turn into a road block
I'm breaking the cement until remains stay scattered on the floor

Written by:
Augustus McGhee

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

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