We Break Bread Songtext - QB Finest

[Intro]

G.O.D. What's up man?

Word up son

I'm goin uptown. What you doin?

I'ma leave this motherfucking money

That's hot shit

Let's go son

QB shit

Fuck everybody


[Black]

Who make a better entrance than a QB squad

From guns, cracks to tracks we some QB stars

Ain't no question 'bout who we are

Straight poems from Shae, Nas to the bar we keepin' the hood glowin

It's Mecca how the hood's glowin and lives changin'

Little dunns runnin' the streets with Macs blazin'

Young cats runnin' the streets with soap blazin'

Now y'all know why the biggest hood could be labeled amazin'

We stand up running songs we step to the plate

Guaranteed to make ya hot like Kuwait

I went from toppin' on plates

to hittin' the Ave. and puttin up A

Now it's thoughts, pencils, and papers provin' I'm great

Same nigga in the hood or tourin the states

Violator have to raise the crime rate, check my mind state

you could see it's on a whole different level

It's Ill Will I front Queensbridge rebel...


[Littles]

A '78 baby comin' up in the hood crazy

Watchin' crack bubblin' in mid-80s now I live it daily

Young ones with guns cockin the hammer

Speakin' hood grammar hustlin' cracks dodgin' the slammer

All 31s get funds runnin' raps for they dunns

Quiet Storm so you won't hear it cmoe heavy metal excident

I got some seditives to make ya'll start relaxin'

Ill Will now waitin' for the chance to keep the dough stackin'

QB niggas waitin' for they anthem

Look black play the cut like the phantom out front niggas

Catch me on the 40 sideway to blunt have some liquor in a cup

Crime Fam' livin' up this beat is excellent I feel it too much

Fuck around somebody might get touched

I'm bravehearted you get tackled on the fifty line yardage

If you come against my whole team of starters mic murder slaughters




In '84 top ten that was a bomb spot

Practiced playin' ball in the wrist I have a strong shot

At 4 o'clock I'll rob you under the tressle

Came from out of town actin' special

That's why I see you fake leaders, and snake breaders

Shit me and the Bravehearts go back like saint weeders

Ball bustaz and brain beaters

You ain't worth the coins in the change meter

On every block and bridge we flame heaters

Hollow points for you laying cheaters

Waiting till' your main day needers

Shit, Craig G.

Naturally and tragically obligated to bust ass

In the clutch like Kurt Warner throwin' touch pass

Don't believe anything that you read inside them smut rags

Half of these rappers sound like smoke twenty dust bags

Probably did, you ain't holdin' the kid that'll bust back

When drama is on I know for a fact so trust that

I'm stuck in this life buck legged cap across the body

Fuckin' his wife sharpin' his place stuck in his knife

What's in the mic wires, mechanics and stuff

But without the fire you really can't apply it too much

I'ma let you find as such with my vocals I'll roast you

No matter where you live this ain't bi-coastal

Bring drama the most you heavy hitters down to the hopefulls

Niggaz rullin' the charge and just broke through

I ain't gonna approach you, that shit that you spit I been spittin'

Back in 1989 when hip hop had no limits

Twenty eight with no gimmicks, real is what this shit is

Got nothin' to lose cuz' I'm a double life bidder

In hip hop shoot the back of ya timbs turn 'em to flip flops

Do a drive by with a horse so run when you hear the click clocks

This shit rocks from Fresno to Fort Knocks

This verse should be enough to make all of the torque stop

No niggaz that four cops no niggaz that court shots

Close fantasy your hypeman should be Mr. Raw Ock


(Chorus)

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