Lyrics Crack Sandwich - JID

Yeah, uh
Look

You can tell a nigga like me ain't never had shit
R.I.P., I miss my dawgs like Mike Vic
Zombies in that midnight fog, them bars sic 'em
Fall victim to a gun brawl started over some bitches
Niggas trippin', they takin' whatever's given
The irony when a nigga's starvin', gotta grip the biscuit
Jump the fence, empty all the dishes out your kitchen
If you witness it, then click, click, click, and they spill the grits

Feel the kick, fuck a fair catch, kill 'em, who tryna take the hit?
First take go to first base, Stephen A Smith Wess'
On the hill, talkin' shit like Skip
Or Shannon, sharp-shootin' off the top of the cliff
And if I gotta bring it to you cowards then it's gonna be sick
Put in my ten thousand hours while the clock still ticks
Zone 6, five fingers with the "suck my dick"
Me and Izzy was slap-boxin' nigga bust my lip

Start fightin' lil' brother on some "tough guy shit"
But if you ever did me wrong, he on some, "what's right shit"
Bust a left, feel the pressure like the bus pipe drip
Blood red, rum sippin' they ain't cut like this
Mama said

"When you fall down, stand up, get a bandage"
"I ain't got cheeseburger money, make a sandwich"
"Why you bein' bad? See ya dad, get your ass whipped"
Seven crack head bad kids in a caravan, yeah

Somebody involved in stealin', it's on, it wasn't
It's gon' be so bad
When the girl went off on Precious
The girl went off on Precious, Rosalyn went in
No, Rosalyn said, "Oh, for real, I'll see you when you get outside"
Exactly, exactly
That's okay, my fault, my fault, my fault
For real? No, no, no, no, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo
Look, uh

You can tell a nigga like me ain't met a nigga like me
Metaphysical things seen in dreams, what you believe?
You bleed, I bleed and draw blood
I'm a fuckin' artiste, Artest with the gun
I can give my world peace, give your world ether
Big dick or grief, I can give your girl either
She could be the, could be the collapse of a kingdom
But king's gotta peep the seat, word to Caesar

Remind me to keep receipts, y'all shit weak
I ain't worried that, that bullshit leaked
See the volumes, it speaks to your broke speakers
Niggas breakin' they back tryna promote some shit that ain't even dope
They ask for my coat when I walk in the door
God flow, I don't walk on the floor
God knows y'all hoes, y'all shows ain't packin' the door
Crackin' the floor, I don't even know if niggas rappin' no more

'Round in my city, I am my shooter
Mindin' my business, I am not you
'Round in my city, I am my shooter
Mindin' my business, I am not you
'Round in my city, I am my shooter
Mindin' my business, I am not you
'Round in my city, I am my shooter
Mindin' my business, how about you?

Look, uh, I do it for Royal and Rosalyn, Rachel and Carl
Izzy, Precious, Destin, strong seven kids, different blessings (hey)
Izzy athletic as fuck, All-American star, hard head
Scholarship at a school in New Orleans
On the football shit, but in class, he on the smart shit (hey)
Black man using his mind, it's a target on your forehead

Gotta stay on point like a marksman
Make a mark, leave a footprint, went for a marching
Bro graduating so we heading to the blue state
Fam' celebrating, granny cooking up a few cakes
Yeah, gown on with the cap like a toupee
Handed a diploma, all the Routes say, "Hooray"

Yeah, hooray, today, catch a bouquet
Tonight it probably be a movie, what's a Blu-Ray?
I got some new Js and a fade, we hit the section
With the football team and a couple other professionals
It sound cool but really, this a confessional
20 minutes in it, Precious done went to the restroom
Said they got to hittin' with some women and they 'bout to get kicked out
They ain't even tell us what that shit was about

All I really seen from the big VIP couch
Was a nigga swing, and hit my sister right in the mouth
The bouncer tried to block the door, that way we couldn't get out
But fuck that, the whole team bust that motherfucker down
Now we fighting in the street, it's like ten against twenty-three
I was seventeen, swinging on any and everything
Bing bing, see my brother doing buddy like a boxing ring
Ros' got a bitch doing the hair weave sling

So beautiful, beating ass was like a family thing
Fighting together made us tighter in spite of how we would argue and scream
And now we brawling right outside of a party in New Orleans
And all the people start police-calling
Pack us inside of a paddy wagon, we sardines
To Saltine crackers that wanna shackle us in chains
Lo and behold, they held us in a holding cell for six
Or maybe seven hours just to let us go without a stain

But who's to blame when all of us got the same mind frame?
We like a gang, mom and pop'll probably be proud and ashamed
Pound for pound, my sister Precious never lost a fade
Got up off the ground and she said she could hear my father sayin'

"When you fall down, stand up, get the bandage"
"I ain't got cheeseburger money, make a sandwich"
"Why you bein' bad? See ya dad, get your ass whipped"
Seven crackhead bad kids in a caravan, yeah

Hold on, hold on, hold on
What happened? What happened? What happened?
We came in the club
We're talking, we go in the restroom
I go in the bathroom, open the door
"Dang B, you could've said sorry"
Ros' said, "B, you ain't gotta say all that, it ain't that serious"
And she was all, "Oh, it's that serious because you were in the bathroom"
Ros' said, "Okay B, I got you B, come outside"
Taj, she opened the door, Rosalyn said "Roof"
I said, "Okay, we fighting"
Damn, she was in the stall
On the stall door
Yeah, she was peeing, girl, she pulled her pants up
She opened the door and Ros' decked her
Ayy, you know what?