Lyrics Bad Apples - Travis Thompson

Bad Apples

Said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Running full-court 'til we got no lights
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Yeah, I said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Running full-court 'til we got no life
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Plate of pulled pork, and a can of cold sprite
Young and so bored
Baby, what’s your vice?
Yeah, we can find the Lord if you give me your night
'Cause I’m from the West side
Well, not really, I’m from just north of the West side
Where the kids don’t know no better
Don’t know left, right
Which way is up, and like: Yes, I
Don’t say enough, and they: best line
You play too much, and I: get fined
Don’t pray for us
So, you riding or not?
Travy keep it up above
You bare your pussy, just sleep on the bus
Walk through the halls with the weed in my sock
Until I seen the dogs, tryina sell and I blush
Tryina keep a C average, ah
Mama going bat-shit
I’m too occupied with tryina stick my index in a bad bitch
Used to stumble through the madness, ah
Taking from my classmates
Thinking: if I can’t afford it, then why should he get to have it?
I still remember every man who ever jumped me, I can’t get past
And when I’m on, I’m finna put a hit out on your bitch ass
That boy all bark, no bite
Running full-court 'til we got no lights
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Yeah, I said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Running full-court 'til we got no life
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Ayy
Mama say I’m not one of your little friends
Man, I’m fucking up, I’m fucking up, I’m fucking up again, ayy
Dirt all in the house, my dad don’t trust none of my friends
Man, I’m fucking up, I’m fucking up, I’m fucking up again
Yo, I love the way they look when they tell me I’m not a bad kid
I love the way they look when they tell me potential massive
I love the way y’all book when security doing back flips
In the back of a Crown Vic, fake cop asked me: «Travis, how’s your dad?»
City too small for me, sip the lukewarm forty
Put the rose gold sharpie on these two poor shorties
Dot the «i"with the heart and tell 'em, «shirts is goin' be twenty»
This the life of the boy from a part of town not important
With the block on my sleeve, got some rocks on my teeth
'Nother check in the mail
Ain’t no boss telling me how to move with my day
Who’d have thought this where I’d be
Little chubby kid from Ambaum talking shit, but honestly
You know that
Said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Running full-court 'til we got no lights
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Yeah, I said, «that boy all bark, no bite»
Running full-court 'til we got no life
In the '04, no place so high
They like: «how them bad apples go and get so ripe?»
Most nights I get too high, can’t find my way back home
Burned brave, weak left last round
Don’t know myself no more
Most nights I get too high, can’t find my way back home
Burned brave, weak left last round
Don’t know myself no more
Answer the phone, bro
Are you good, or are you good?