TRU (MASTER P)

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That's How We Break Bread Lyrics

Lyrics Font

TRU (Master P) : That's How We Break Bread Lyrics

Songwriters: N/A

. Send "That's How We Break Bread" Ringtone to your Cell .

[master p]
Huh huh, yeah nigga
Y'all remember that shit me and bo did last year
Head for the jack, we done jacked the motherfuckers
And got rich this year you know what I'm sayin'

P and bo went half on some dope, half on some dope, half on some dope
P and bo went half on some dope, turn a half ounce into a key

[c-bo]
Mo' money, mo mother fuckin' mail
Post on the block, come back and drop knots in the garbage pail
Peepin' out the window with the ak
Paranoia, neighborhood destroyer
Half a key on the livin' room table, and from city to city I'm able
Cap a key for 10 and 12, my mexican friends got the gear
Breakin' down a quarter ki', procedin' to make that mail,
Master p got the mix on the yay
Whippin 'em with the can't explain game , cause rain
So fuck what you heard and pay 16 for this bird
We slangin' ki's and stackin' g's in the suburbs
Mouth full of dope, bold's yeah you know
Them richmond niggas, quick to pull that asshole
Some dope dealers, that only fuck with killers
One of the first from the block to stack a mill because

Chorus 4x

Everyday, all day, 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 a pimp ? ? ? ,
And slang this quarter like calone, by that nigga pervis ? ? ?
Ain't no limits to these hits that I make
The ice cream man, the king pin of the bay
Just got a bid of 20 birdies, stuck to the ground
S.k. 'bout to get my hands dirty, tru stand for hustla
So jump in the 500 sel and buckle up
On my way way to sac. with them crome gats, 40 g's,
4 tires filled of that kill' crack
Don't give a fuck if I die or go to the pen.
I'm headed to the end, a dope fiends best friend
So call me the richmond nino brown
Cause dope and money makes the world go 'round
45 k would by my work to, and blowin' dope to the ghetto
Like b.b. king blow the blues,
Bullets ? ? ? cause fools can't escape this
Niggas lose they life for stickin' they nose in my cake mix
And like a ? ? ? away from rain
I mean harvest these chickens until it's a drought man
I got more mack than craig, notorious like big
Put a playa hater in the back
And I give you a bitch before I give you a buck
Hit the windows niggas chokin' on a fruit roll-up
I got ? ? ? on tha set puttin' in work sellin' fuckin' lemonheads
To the dope fiends, we call 'em street queens
Hit the dope and they pussy when the feds hit the scene
Now the spots hot ain't nobody got rocks
Laugh at the cops, organization ticks like a clock

Chorus 4x

[king george]
Just another episode of how us no limit tru niggas make our mail
Organized trained soldiers droppin' bread crumbs to the underworld
You know what I mean and like nigga p
Said every day, all day, hustlin' to get paid
That's how we break bread hahahaha