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JID – Crack Sandwich

Lyrics Crack Sandwich – JID

Yeah, uh, look
You can tell a n**ga like me ain’t never had s**t
R.I.P., I miss my dawgs like Mike Vic
Zombies in that midnight fog, them bars sic ’em
Gon’ fall victim to a gun brawl started over some b**ches, huh
N**gas trippin’, they takin’ whatever’s given
The irony when a n**ga’s starvin’, gotta grip the biscuit
Jump the fence, empty all the dishes out ya kitchen
If you witness it, then click, click, click, and they spill the grits

Feel the kick, f**k a fair catch, kill ’em, who tryna take the hit
First take go to first base, Stephen A. Smith Wess’
On the hill, talkin’ s**t 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’, n**ga bust my lip
Start fightin’, lil’ brother on some tough guy s**t
But if you ever did me wrong, he on some What’s right s**t
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 a*s whipped
Seven crackhead bad kids in a caravan, yeah

Somebody involved in stealin’, it’s on, it wasn’t
It’s gon’ be so bad, yeah
When the girl went off on Precious
The girl went off on Precious
The girl went off on Precious and Rosen went in
No, Rosen 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, yo, yo, yo.. hold on, hol
Look, check, look

You can tell a n**ga like me ain’t met a n**ga like me
Metaphysical things seen in dreams, what you believe
You bleed, I bleed and draw blood
I’m a f**kin’ 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 s**t weak
And I’m sorry that your bulls**t leaked
See the volumes, it speaks to your broke speakers
N**gas breakin’ they back
Tryna promote some s**t 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 h*es, y’all shows ain’t pack in the door
Crack in the floor
I don’t even know if n**gas rappin’ no more, come on

‘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 Roseline
Is he precious Destin, strong seven kids, different blessings
Is he athletic as f**k All-American star, hard head
Scholarship at a school in New Orleans
On the football s**t, but in class, he on the smart s**t
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 ruse 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
Twenty 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 s**t was about

All I really seen from the big VIP couch
Was a n**ga swing, it hit my sister right in the mouth
The bouncer tried to block the door, that way we couldn’t get out
But f**k that, the whole team bust that motherf**ker down
Now we fighting in the street, it’s like ten and twenty-three
I was seventeen, swinging on any and everything
Bing bing, see my brother doing buddy like a boxing ring
Raj got a b**ch doing the hair weave sling
So beautiful, beating a*s 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 salting 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 of the shame
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 a bandage
I ain’t got cheeseburger money, make a sandwich
Why you bein’ bad See ya dad, get your a*s whipped
Seven crackhead bad kids in a caravan, yeah

Hold on, hold on, hold on
What happened
What happened
What happened
He came in the club
We’re talking, we in the restaurant
I go in the bathroom open the door
Dang B, you could’ve said something
And I said B, you ain’t gotta tell that, ain’t all that serious
And she was all
Oh, it’s that serious because you were in the bathroom
Raj said, Okay B, I got you B, come outside
Taj, she opened the door, Raj said Roof
I said, Oh no, we fighting
Damn, she was in the stall
In the stall though
Yeah, she was peeing, girl, she pulled her pants up
She opened the door and Raj .. her
And you know what…

Written by Nami, Cardiak, TBHits, JID & Christo
Album: The Forever Story
Produced by Nami, Cardiak, TBHits, Groove & Christo
JID | 2022

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