Break Bread

[Intro - Jammie Sommers] (RZA): 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.. [Jammie Sommers] Yo save John Bennett, trauma John Bell Lace 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 Brooklyn, we 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 Wallabees Study righteous God Degree, yo.. [Both] We Break Bread and deal with equality [RZA] Yo check it, my break and deal with this son Explicit lyrical orgy, you bitches smell like dead foggy ho While Jammie splash you with the bottle of Giorgio Or 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 niggas 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 Gaps Cowboy 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 [Jammie Sommers] 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 niggas, 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