Chicago’s Chris Crack teases his debut Fool’s Gold LP Might Delete Later with the searing, cinematic “False Evidence Appearing Real.” The wildly prolific, beloved MC (“cult-hero status among online rap heads… a wiseass combination of Danny Brown and Chris Rock.” – Pitchfork) takes his signature approach to another level, dropping bars (and knowledge jewels) over an ominously funky Sonny Jim instrumental.

Listen:https://foolsgold.ffm.to/fear

Directed by : New Trash

Lyrics :
(UHN!)
just bodied up the whole stage,
see if they can hold face,
asking if she ok,

no say,
white shades like I’m Cobain,
blueprints listening to no Jay,
(FLEX!)
opposite of old face,
lemme get some more space,
nigga
She got a man but no manners,
that’s not exotic pop, nigga that’s a cold Fanta,
(let’s talk about it)
go panda,
with 4 hammers,
I call it rudolf w the red nose and both antlers,
(BOOM!)
I bought that shit, it ain’t no Santa,
(NEVER!)
or go joe dancer,
ima troll till they fold campers,
I got this game from an old pamphlet,
(FLEX!)
nigga
unruly ain’t got no standards,
(NONE!)
none
why the beats is better than the rappers, I ain’t know if he was rappin, i ain’t know if he was trapping,
(HA!)
what happened,
to role models,
not the ones who sold us out for a gold bottle,
(Huh?)
on a speedboat,
well I’m Joseph in the technicolor dream coat,
(FLEX!)
bitch
or that fly,
this ain’t satire,
I got baptized on the westside, you was just chastised,
(BITCH!)
too wavy can’t capsize,
(NEVER!)
aye don’t shake just dap mine,
I tap lines w this cast iron,
they gon honor me tho,
(Foreal)
I saw zackfox at a dope ass comedy show,
I always lie to these hoes,
(ALWAYS!)
ion even try w these hoes,
no Lyft ion even say bye to these hoes,
ay Cutta why eye’n me fo’

D’Fuck?
What they wanna do?
Whats up?
What you sayin’?