Chris Crack – 187 Wordplay lyrics

[Chorus: Chris Crack]
Still on my first page, never left my verb place, 187 wordplay
I got arrested on Thursday but I’m back out
Forty-two life stack house, just meet me at my trap house

[Verse 1: Chris Crack]
This shit satire, talk down on the clique you get the black eyes
Act like you foggy get jumped like lily pads
Yeah nigga we know you whack
My bitch cooked me some breakfast, had a friend with her
Been lending the dick while I’m penning this
You niggas is feminine, wearing jaggers
I beat her, she was lesbian
I ain’t telling ‘em nothing, this shit personal
And I’m wavy never wearing the wave cap
Get your bitch snatched, move your [?]
I flex thoughts, nigga where your jays at
I stayed back and get laid flat
They owe eight stacks but I will go into it
[?] to my PayPal, I just dripping
Still lending cash, peeling off these transactions
Not a drug dealer, I keep a cold billy
While them niggas all willy nilly

[Verse 2: Lloyd Dot Dot]
Still on my first page, wrought into the third day
Hit Nirvana on some Cobain, Cassius Clay [?]
Crack tooth smile through the hallways
[?] with the one-hundred-thousand real quick
I’ve fallen asleep and still feel it
Adrenaline kicked in and pick up for me
You felt timid, Olympic level apparently
Y’all embarrassing, chief and Cherokees
[?] flower comparable to H2O
Heard by ICE and the Oreos
Connecting the dots like some dominoes
Fucking monopoly, I’m copping me a Galapagos
Island where I done held the finest pineapple [?]
Supersonic shine cap, Gary Peyton
Shred fried rice, acid bacon
I smoke in a pancake, last day for you has-beens
Chris Crack yo, what’s cracking

[Verse 3: Chris Crack]
Kick off riot, I’m dying, let’s start a mosh pit
At a rap show, put your hands in the air
Even if you flat broke, I’m off jack
So please check out the jack tape
Yes I got the flat razor, I’m in the bat cave
Left a badger looking ass bitch in a sad stage
If you get whetted for fifty, you better steady precision
Never had nipples, this shit ain’t never been funny
You not post on top, I’m losing my mind
And they tell me I should hold off
I’m still knocking on shirt bruh, come to think about it
Yeah it hurts bruh, leave your bitch around me dogging
I’mma flirt bruh and probably fuck her
I can come up with worse stuff, but I’mma [?]
Never cuffing me, the law enforcement to the other suckers
I put the cash in the duffle, and that’s on me on occasion
On some cool ass Asians, I got plug, just paged me
Californication

[Verse 4: MFn Melo]
Me and the flow stay adjacent, perfect pilot basement
Like the ones I made at granny house, damn
Fucking disease took my granny out
Every since they dead I romance with them strands
Go a little further for them bands like Orlando Jones
Lions drumming and a nigga time shifting minds
Plan kaboom, kablam, action figures in a jam
And I sock ‘em [?] proper with they sans
Watch your mouth, shout out Joe and Saba
Used to plot your couch in a lab where
The pad crib was not within my route
Ladies man like I’m Leon Phelps
Blowing on another level like some neon stilts
Deon help intercept thoughts, that I’m a peon
[?] tell you dudes that I’m the doodle
Quick draw like a doodle, take a nigga fire
Be on wealth, never see me bitch, I be on stealth
Jot it all down just to ease my health
I’m still on my first page

[Chorus: Chris Crack]
Still on my first page, never left my verb place, 187 wordplay
I got arrested on Thursday but I’m back out
Forty-two life stack house, just meet me at my trap house

[Verse 5: Astonish]
I got the marijuana blazing, I’m sky high
Why lie, my connect is better than wifi
Top down, I’m a black hippy, only smoke weed
Who would’ve though I had crack with me
I’m back like D. Rose at the door
Shooting through the peep hole
Hate rappers with smart deals and big egos
Hate niggas who act like it’s all love
With fake daps and hugs, I tell ‘em
That they can keep those, I don’t want that
In the club probably leaning like my ball cap
Bitches say I’m all that, I don’t trust ‘em
I just wanna fuck ‘em, niggas don’t fight no more
They just untuck ‘em, better hope for good luck
When they buck ‘em and them crooked police
Probably kill ‘em before they cuff ‘em
I wonder why we living life this way
Man your life could be the price you pay
And what the hook say, nigga

[Verse 6: Chris Crack]
‘Cause I don’t know where to go with it
In the four-fifty doing one-fifty, and my buck-fifty
I hit ‘em up they don’t fuck with me
So fuck ‘em, I’m still working this double nights
Ain’t you Chris Crack, and I don’t got no love for ‘em
[?] That’s the end of their tough shit
For me they bang muskets, justice
Songs should tell you that I ain’t even with the fuck shit
Deuces, I don’t talk shit
Back when it was what it was
And don’t ask how I feel
Because [?] I’m serving these random customers
Renegade razor blade to your dinner plate
I always liked Skittles, fuck a fiddle
‘Cause I rock to the bass line, it’s all love
Like face on, I’m getting place off
Like put me in coach, and the body still dope jokes
Ain’t for me on this one, I came cliqued up
They got us mixed up, look at the topic, just us