RZA - Break Bread Lyrics
[Intro - Jammie Sommers] (RZA):Yo, yeah yeah, yo what?(Gotta spit on these *****es real quick)Yea, Jammie Sommers bring the thunder, what?(Word up, doo-doo stain *****es)Yo, yo, uh-huh, yo..[Jammie Sommers]Yo save John Bennett, trauma John BellLace stay in my equality, mic oddesseyJudy Plum, ghetto tag on the drumNestle in the glass, I was plunged, double-edged tonguePearly handle, scroll Brooklyn, we bouncin, commercial keep lookin***** tight ginger, turn rough cats to cringersMake him surrender is car and legal tenderSunshine on time, manifest all time 'tween beamsbecause I study all true reality, sculpted by my WallabeesStudy righteous God Degree, yo..[Both]We Break Bread and deal with equality[RZA]Yo check it, my break and deal with this sonExplicit lyrical orgy, you *****es smell like dead foggy hoeWhile Jammie splash you with the bottle of Giorgioor Chanel's No. 5, dog ***** you can't surviveYou buy and shoot some straw ride, ya tried to glide on B.O.B.B.Y.Jammie Sommers, treat her like my daughter, real niggaz wanna ***** herPass a quart of milk, crab, clam, possum, wild flower blossominPower-U, have you gaspin for your oxygenGold bra straps, fine pointed, purple star GapsCowboy boots and tastle, with the straw hatYou derelict hoes, we ***** y'all without pullin down our clothesWhile your nigga wish to lick Jammie Sommers' toesImaginate, you best to go home son and masturbateor put your ten dollars up and buy the fat tape[Jammie Sommers]Yo, a hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty cashYo now, watch Miss Sommers, shake that assYo, you love the way my brother splashChain reaction keep you puzzledMouth muscle, card shuffle, belt buckleJammie S'll never kiss ass after I close a dealYou best to believe this rap shit I say is for realA lot of y'all *****es be good earners with two outTake too many chances, chillin with niggaz, lampinProfilin, wildin, Jammie hung with the realty smilinTakin shots at Louie the thirteenth, and tie you upbathed in Sheik, so you could watch your man beat his meatCuz, uh, lodi dodi, I got the bodyAnd tutti fruiti, I got the bootyI shake, my rump, all in ya faceMake a ***** tie my sneaker laceCuz A is for Apple and J is for JackAnd most of y'all *****es ain't go no hair in the backAnd ya tracks is wack
