Chris Crack - The Egyptians Were Black lyrics
[Chris Crack - The Egyptians Were Black lyrics]
Everybody wanna be a nigga
But don’t nobody wanna be a nigga
I hate culture vultures
All these new bait clones and fake postures
They really just punks
I spent this new feature money
On some fresh dunks
Like twelve pair, I don’t rock a necklace
You don’t even seem real at breakfast
I’m kinda stressing, she tell me
Don’t trip on it
I’m sick I need a fix homie
Gave her the d note and made the bed rock
Dollar slices around the corner
From the barbers I’m going hard
I charged my phone in the car
He was acting like a bitch with the aux cord
But I played it cool this time
And gave her one star, I trump cards
They just ducking like Donald
I can’t hear myself through this monitor
Hanukah or Ramadan
We did drug deals by Papa John’s
And I ‘m faded and probably dumb
I don’t trust a phone blowing
Up from hella customers
I ain’t going back to selling dope, nah
All this music tragic
He saw Carrie in that purple casket
Two days before I needed it
Treat me to some cheese sticks and lemonade
Bitch, and don’t forget doughnuts
She just wanna suck my dick Gregory
Highest danced around the topic
Shit who don’t commit felonies?
You dumb enough to get caught
She told me I’m a boy toy
And I’m a good sport
Her husband was on his way
And I said get lost
Feeling her from the tip off
She use me, cool world man, she such a vixen
I just wanted to treat her to some chicken
In my face I had to
Fix it, emotions was mixing
Dipped in and dipped out
And my setback amused you
My comeback’l’ confuse you, per usual
Until then I’m in the guest house, bitch
(Oh, no
Uncle Chris said a bad word) like Stedman
But don’t nobody wanna be a nigga
I hate culture vultures
All these new bait clones and fake postures
They really just punks
I spent this new feature money
On some fresh dunks
Like twelve pair, I don’t rock a necklace
You don’t even seem real at breakfast
I’m kinda stressing, she tell me
Don’t trip on it
I’m sick I need a fix homie
Gave her the d note and made the bed rock
Dollar slices around the corner
From the barbers I’m going hard
I charged my phone in the car
He was acting like a bitch with the aux cord
But I played it cool this time
And gave her one star, I trump cards
They just ducking like Donald
I can’t hear myself through this monitor
Hanukah or Ramadan
We did drug deals by Papa John’s
And I ‘m faded and probably dumb
I don’t trust a phone blowing
Up from hella customers
I ain’t going back to selling dope, nah
All this music tragic
He saw Carrie in that purple casket
Two days before I needed it
Treat me to some cheese sticks and lemonade
Bitch, and don’t forget doughnuts
She just wanna suck my dick Gregory
Highest danced around the topic
Shit who don’t commit felonies?
You dumb enough to get caught
She told me I’m a boy toy
And I’m a good sport
Her husband was on his way
And I said get lost
Feeling her from the tip off
She use me, cool world man, she such a vixen
I just wanted to treat her to some chicken
In my face I had to
Fix it, emotions was mixing
Dipped in and dipped out
And my setback amused you
My comeback’l’ confuse you, per usual
Until then I’m in the guest house, bitch
(Oh, no
Uncle Chris said a bad word) like Stedman