Chris Crack – Jealousy In Jokes lyrics

[Verse 1: Conway The Machine]
Listen you better stay in your place
Or get every bone broke in your face
Send the goons to kick down the door in your place
Take the money and the bricks from out of your safe
VIP drinking cold eighths, told the waitress
Bitch bring the whole case
These niggas rapping like they got they smoke laced
I’m grimy like ’94 Ghostface, I put money on your head boss
Them little shooters trying to get that bread [?]
Sawed off shotty blew your leg off, wig shotters
Forehead is leaking red sauce, each side
That’s how we on it nigga, don’t trust a soul
These niggas might be an informant nigga
Everywhere I go my shooter got it on ‘em nigga
Stay in your lane, that’s a warning nigga
Different livings, different apartment building
The difference is when you’re in ‘em can you leave
Well I’mma get out, fake ‘em out please
Breaking out just a dream, [?] in these streets
I fell on in New Orleans my first visit
And I didn’t miss it, wishing these rappers
See the money there [?]
I used to want me some wheat tings [?]
Got out and got ‘em, met me some felons
Now [?] a felon, fucking the helling
Homies are bucking and bailing
Homies are way up in heaven
Never got to see how they [?]
Been a month since I dropped
Billy Donovan my alias on tax forms
[?] turned chemist, my resume learned
[?] got a drop with the herb in it
Cease with the words in it, drill from the curb, been it
Breaking them laws on white folks
Tooken turns mending, and earned plenty
Nigga act like me, he third wheeling
Word isn’t would’ve came through the door
But we heard children, told my mama the devil is in me
Sometime nigga

[Chorus: Chris Crack]
Niggas claiming they know me, yeah
Niggas claiming they know me, yeah
Niggas claiming they know me, when they don’t
When they don’t, they don’t, they don’t
Niggas claiming they know me, when they don’t

[Verse 2: Chris Crack]
Benz, uber a black car, she cuss me out in French
None of this is making sense as it shouldn’t
My work drive like barracudas, pair of hooters to match
I want some wings now, fling how it was just for the summer
Bundle me up ‘cause it was cold like Ramona
Phoning me back ‘cause you was done with them posers
Shit I’m good ma, Philly cheese from that hood spot
She had more people than Woodstock, I should doctor this motherfucker
But here’s a pipe, now put a rock up on that motherfucker
I smoke crack with Bob Dole, hot coals from the drive way
This was back when MySpace was still cracking
Actually they was too fast to combat me, that [?] rather tacky
Shacking me up with this buzzer, then on the run now
She took care of me so I started love her, some people say I was bugging
Juggling several occupations, old school like two-pair dating’s a rare occasion

[Chorus: Chris Crack]
Niggas claiming they know me, when they don’t
When they don’t, they don’t, they don’t
Niggas claiming they know me, when they don’t