RZA, Jamie Sommers - Break Bread lyrics

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 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, police woman 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 see the true reality
Sculpted by my Wallabees
Study 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 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 BOBBY
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

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