JID - Crack Sandwich lyrics

Gotta bring it to you cowards
Y'all wanted it
Cowards, and it's gonna be sicker
Than all the niggas
Yeah, uh, look

You can tell a nigga like
Me ain't never had shit
R.I.P., I miss my dawgs like Mike Vick
Zombies in that midnight fog
Them bars sick 'em
Fall victim to a gun brawl
Started over some bitches
Huh
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 grit's
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
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
Momma 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 crackhead bad kids in a caravan

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 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
Crackin' the floor, I don't even know
If niggas rappin' no more
Come on
(Uh okay)

'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
(Hey)
Twenty minutes in it
Precious and 'nem 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
(Hey)
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
Oh the stall door
Yeah, she was peeing, girl
She pulled her pants up
She opened the door and received it
(Rosalyn met her)
Ayy, you know what?