Crack Sandwich

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?