Lyrics

JID – Crack Sandwich Lyrics

JID Crack Sandwich Lyrics

You can tell a n**** like me ain’t never had shit
R.I.P., I miss my dogs like Mike Vic
Zombies in that midnight fog, them boys sic ’em
Fall victim to a gun brawl started over some bitches
N***** trippin’, they taking whatever’s given
The irony when a n**** starving gotta grip the biscuit
Jump the fence, empty all the dishes out your kitchen
If you witnessing the click-click-clickin’ they steal 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 hip
Talkin’ shit like Skip
Or Shannon Sharpe shootin’, off the top of the cliff

And if I got to bring it to you then it’s gonna be sick
Put in my 10,000 hours while the clock still tic, Zone 6
5 fingers with the suck my dick
Me and Izzy was slap boxin’, n**** bust my lip
Start fighting, 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 bust 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 being bad? Send your Dad, get ya ass whipped”
Seven crackhead bad kids in a Caravan

You can tell a n**** like me ain’t met a n**** like me
Metaphysical things seen in dreams, what you believe?
You bleed, I bleed, and draw blood
I’m a fucking 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 can be the-can be the collapse of a kingdom
But Kings gotta peep the “C” word, the 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
N***** breakin’ they back tryna promote some shit that ain’t even dope
They ask for my coat when I walk through the door
God flow, I don’t walk on the floor
God knows y’all hoes, y’all shows ain’t packin’ the door
Crack in the floor, I’on even know n***** rappin’ nomo

Okay, runnin’ my city, I am my shooter
Minding my business, I am not you
Runnin’ my city, I am my shooter
Minding my business, I am not you
Runnin’ my city, I am my shooter
Minding my business, I am not you
Runnin’ my city, I am my shooter
Minding 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
Izzy athletic as fuck, All American star
Hard head, scholarship to this school in New Orleans
On the Football shit, but in class he on the smart shit
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 before marching
Bro graduating so we heading to the blue state
Fam celebratin’ granny cookin’ up a few cakes
Yeah, gown on with the cap like a toupee
Handed a diploma, all the room say, “Hooray”
Hooray, today, catch a bouquet
Tonight’ll prolly be a movie, what’s a blu-ray?
I got some new Jays, 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 and 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 n**** 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 mo’fucka down
Now we fighting in the street, it’s like 10 against 23
I was 17 swinging on any and everything
Bing bing, seen my brother doin’ buddy like a boxin’ ring
Ros got a bitch doing the hair weave sling
So beautiful, beatin’ ass was like a family thing
Fightin’ 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 patty wagon, we sardines
To saltine crackers that wanna shackle us in chains
Low and behold they held us in the holding cell for 6 or maybe 7 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 would probably be proud and ashamed
Pound for pound my sister Precious never lost a fade
Got up of the ground and she said she could hear my father saying

“When you fall down stand up get a bandage”
“I ain’t got cheeseburger money, make a sandwich”
“Why you being bad? Send your Dad, get ya ass whipped”
Seven crackhead bad kids in a Caravan

  • Written by: Benjamin Tolbert, Carl McCormick, Destin Route, Dylan Ismael Teixeira, John Welch, Thomas Brown
  • Album: The Forever Story
  • Released: 2022

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