Break Bread

Yo, yeah yeah, yo what?(Gotta spit on these bitches real quick)

Yea, Jammie

Sommers bring the thunder, what?(Word up, doo-doo stain bitches)

Yo, yo, uh-huh, yo

Yo save John

Bennett, trauma

John BellLace stay in my equality, mic oddessey

Judy Plum, ghetto tag on the drum

Nestle in the glass,

I was plunged

Double-edged tongue

Pearly handle, scroll

BrooklynWe bouncin', commercial keep lookin'

Pussy tight ginger, turn rough cats to cringers

Make him surrender is car and legal tender

Sunshine on time, manifest all time 'tween beams

Because I study all true reality, sculpted by my

WallabeesStudy righteous

God Degree, yo

We break bread and deal with equality

Yo check it, my break and deal with this son

Explicit lyrical orgy, you bitches smell like dead foggy hoe

While Jammie splash you with the bottle of

GiorgioOr

Chanel's No. 5, dog bitch you can't survive

You 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 fuck her

Pass a quart of milk, crab, clam, possum, wild flower blossomin'

Power-U, have you gaspin' for your oxygen

Gold bra straps, fine pointed, purple star

GapsCowboy boots and tastle, with the straw hat

You derelict hoes, we fuck y'all without pullin' down our clothes

While your nigga wish to lick

Jammie Sommers' toes

Imaginate, you best to go home son and masturbate

Or put your ten dollars up and buy the fat tape

Yo, a hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty cash

Yo now, watch

Miss Sommers, shake that ass

Yo, you love the way my brother splash

Chain reaction keep you puzzled

Mouth muscle, card shuffle, belt buckle

Jammie S'll never kiss ass after

I close a deal

You best to believe this rap shit

I say is for real

A lot of y'all bitches be good earners with two out

Take too many chances, chillin' with niggaz, lampin'

Profilin', wildin',

Jammie hung with the realty smilin'

Takin' shots at

Louie the thirteenth and tie you up

Bathed in

Sheik, so you could watch your man beat his meat

Cuz, uh, lodi dodi,

I got the body

And tutti fruiti,

I got the booty

I shake, my rump, all in ya face

Make a bitch tie my sneaker lace'

Cuz A is for apple and

J is for Jack

And most of y'all bitches

Ain't go no hair in the back

And ya tracks is wack