Letra Break Bread de Rza original

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

Pearly handle, scroll Brooklyn, we bouncin, commercial keep lookin
Nestle in the glass, I was plunged, double-edged tongue


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 hoe

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 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 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 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

'cause, 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

'cause 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