We Break Bread

[Intro]<br>G.O.D. What`s up man?<br>Word up son<br>I`m goin uptown. What you doin?<br>I`ma leave this motherfucking money<br>That`s hot shit<br>Let`s go son<br>QB shit<br>Fuck everybody<br><br>[Black]<br>Who make a better entrance than a QB squad<br>From guns, cracks to tracks we some QB stars<br>Ain`t no question `bout who we are<br>Straight poems from Shae, Nas to the bar we keepin` the hood glowin<br>It`s Mecca how the hood`s glowin and lives changin`<br>Little dunns runnin` the streets with Macs blazin`<br>Young cats runnin` the streets with soap blazin`<br>Now y`all know why the biggest hood could be labeled amazin`<br>We stand up running songs we step to the plate<br>Guaranteed to make ya hot like Kuwait<br>I went from toppin` on plates <br>to hittin` the Ave. and puttin up A<br>Now it`s thoughts, pencils, and papers provin` I`m great<br>Same nigga in the hood or tourin the states<br>Violator have to raise the crime rate, check my mind state <br>you could see it`s on a whole different level<br>It`s Ill Will I front Queensbridge rebel...<br><br>[Littles]<br>A `78 baby comin` up in the hood crazy<br>Watchin` crack bubblin` in mid-80s now I live it daily<br>Young ones with guns cockin the hammer<br>Speakin` hood grammar hustlin` cracks dodgin` the slammer<br>All 31s get funds runnin` raps for they dunns<br>Quiet Storm so you won`t hear it come heavy metal excident<br>I got some seditives to make ya`ll start relaxin`<br>Ill Will now waitin` for the chance to keep the dough stackin`<br>QB niggas waitin` for they anthem<br>Look black play the cut like the phantom out front niggas<br>Catch me on the 40 sideway to blunt have some liquor in a cup<br>Crime Fam` livin` up this beat is excellent I feel it too much<br>Fuck around somebody might get touched<br>I`m bravehearted you get tackled on the fifty line yardage<br>If you come against my whole team of starters mic murder slaughters<br><br>[Lord] (Chorus)<br>We grow grey in the same place<br>Walk the same block, squeeze the same glock<br>We gotta eat for niggas that don`t sleep<br>We hustlin` in sleep catch you permanent creeps<br>We brake bread from fucking the same bitch<br>We reppin` the same clique for that QB shit<br>We mos` real my people is mos` ill<br>Nigga take it how you feel get shot for real<br><br>[Chaos]<br>I tripped and fell many times but rose to my feet<br>Fo-fo longs concealed in my no face sleeves<br>To my life slip away one step from a grave <br>And steady took away my youth for locked me in a bink<br>Man, I was too young to understand what life means<br>See y`all gon` understand a story of thug that like things<br>Can`t express the rush I get when busting Macs<br>How adrenaline flows when the hammer kicks back<br>I know it`s more than life in the hood<br>But I still spit stories of my past ways<br>It`s like a glass maze<br>Six blocks caged in I was razed in<br>The illest of fond, the realest in dunns<br>QB to the death of me, I suerve and ride<br>Till` my physical is stiff and my sould is on the other side<br>Mo` money, mo` murder, mo` homicide<br>Fuck wit` QB man you better have that allibi<br><br>[Craig G.]<br>I`m from a planet called QB where drama runs deep<br>And gunshots wake you up out of your sleep like an alarm clock<br>In `84 top ten that was a bomb spot<br>Practiced playin` ball in the wrist I have a strong shot<br>At 4 o`clock I`ll rob you under the tressle<br>Came from out of town actin` special<br>That`s why I see you fake leaders, and snake breaders<br>Shit me and the Bravehearts go back like saint weeders<br>Ball bustaz and brain beaters<br>You ain`t worth the coins in the change meter<br>On every block and bridge we flame heaters<br>Hollow points for you laying cheaters<br>Waiting till` your main day needers<br>Shit, Craig G.<br>Naturally and tragically obligated to bust ass<br>In the clutch like Kurt Warner throwin` touch pass<br>Don`t believe anything that you read inside them smut rags<br>Half of these rappers sound like smoke twenty dust bags<br>Probably did, you ain`t holdin` the kid that`ll bust back<br>When drama is on I know for a fact so trust that<br>I`m stuck in this life buck legged cap across the body <br>Fuckin` his wife sharpin` his place stuck in his knife <br>What`s in the mic wires, mechanics and stuff <br>But without the fire you really can`t apply it too much<br>I`ma let you find as such with my vocals I`ll roast you<br>No matter where you live this ain`t bi-coastal<br>Bring drama the most you heavy hitters down to the hopefulls<br>Niggaz rullin` the charge and just broke through<br>I ain`t gonna approach you, that shit that you spit I been spittin`<br>Back in 1989 when hip hop had no limits<br>Twenty eight with no gimmicks, real is what this shit is<br>Got nothin` to lose cuz` I`m a double life bidder<br>In hip hop shoot the back of ya timbs turn `em to flip flops<br>Do a drive by with a horse so run when you hear the click clocks<br>This shit rocks from Fresno to Fort Knocks<br>This verse should be enough to make all of the torque stop<br>No niggaz that four cops no niggaz that court shots<br>Close fantasy your hypeman should be Mr. Raw Ock<br><br>(Chorus)