Chris Crack The Egyptians Were Black Lyrics
The Egyptians Were Black by Chris Crack
[Verse 1:]
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
[Verse 2:]
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
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
[Verse 2:]
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