Lyrics:
Money on my mind so these haters in a way
Having conversation with the paper every day
I ain't talking short bread, girl with that magic cake
Plus
resurrected Lord
Are found in means divine
Beneath the water and the Word
Beneath the bread and wine
We walk by faith and not by sight
We walk by faith and not
She can't help it, the girl can't help it
She can't help it, the girl can't help it
If she walks by and the menfolks get engrossed
She can't
love your back rubs, garlic bread, hot lasagna
These things I can’t provide, I’m on without the dollar
I would’ve stayed but I forgot I got another
a rusted Mustang feeding in the yard of Silvia King
I wondered at the nature of a man
As I raised some dust by Stephen Leon's land
Born to lead but bread
hustling to get paid
Straight ballin', that's how we break bread
[master p]
Nigga what, nigga what, been down for 22 years
Finally done came up, og with
to the bread but he was quick with the toaster
Before he got the chance to start it type looked over
Don't play boy the card he dealt turned him
a chubby muffin
But the prisoner of his own head
Ate just a slice of bread
That is what the guard feeds him
By the time she locked the door
Sent troops
really ain't my style
I just wanna move it by the pound
Up so high, I can even see the ground
Pilot talk Milly, I been living in the clouds
Smoke all day,
(Samples by Alchemist:)
Looked up the dj, and said may I?
[Large Proffesor]
Blow and pow like 4th of July explosives?
Lit it up, like the 4th
Play dead on 'em, they tried to rob him
He fled on 'em
I keep that 30 and a Bible by the bed homie
Last situation got a little bloody
Left a little bread
candy paint, sprayed by that Eddie
12 coats of that clear lookin' like some grape jelly
My paint's drippin' wet, my slab is superb
Park the truck
all up shakin', holdin' on his stomach
Man fuck all them looks
I had to go get that bread so I could put money on them books
That boy look shook
want beef, let us know he can eat that bread
'Cause he pushin' that mayo, fuego
Respect when you see him
Boy, last album was a musical museum
the revolver
I dead dun
I shot toe then run
Now stay motherfucker give head to the gun
Stay on son
Itchy bon like number one
It's the QB album that us
written to myself
Aspirin' for greatness, wellness and
Wealth, I'm cold, i'm hard to melt
Uhh, I'm more than a hot song
Or a hot album
Ask my ex, I still
to the bar, drinks on us
If you wanna hang out with the gangstas, y'all go 'head
I'm just gonna count a little mothafuckin' bread
If y'all wanna slither with
to the bar, drinks on us
If ya'll wanna hang out with the gangstas, ya'll go 'head
I'm just gonna count a little motherfuckin' bread
If ya'll wanna slither
I'm a white bread, I'm a white bread, so?
I'm a got a ring and I hang it through my nose
Got a little game, take it to the park,
Don't care who
when the preacher would say
Come to Jesus he'll lighten your load
So often he preached of the life giving bread
In that little old church by the road
Skididididilly woah
Ever since a youngin' I've been going for the gusto
Told me I'll be there by twenty- one and I'll say fuck no
Still here in this bitch,
that makes you want to leave them other heffers alone
But my bone got a mind of its own
I continued to roam while she waited by the phone
Loneliness
Like I done did enough time and shit, like by myself and shit
Like right now, I just wanna
I just wanna be with you all the time and shit
Like
clique
Put a lock on my dick 'cause my brain is da key
I ain't wat you want so quit lyin to me
See I was born by myself
Imma die by myself
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