Get That Bread

Yeah, the huslta' philly! Larsiny Family (Apply Pressure) i get that bread boy I'm a hustla for real i get that bread boy I'm worth a couple a mil I get that bread boy So fck how you feel i ain't broke I Sell coke and got a couple a deals I get that bread boy Yeah I'm a hustla for real I get that bread boy I'm worth a couple a mil I get that bread boy So fck how you feel to get rich I hit The strip like what the fck is the deal When I pop the shotty It got kick but it's not karate And when I snap you take shots like I'm like paparazzi i'm from philly Yo my city it's a lotta bodies They murdaa like Irv Gotti they kamikaze Doin music is my life yo it's not a hobbie I fell in love with hip-hop When I heard Loddy Doddy i'm like I prolly could spit it and get money too Cause I'm slick like Rick and I'm fresh like Dougie too i'm not a dummy Never did what the dummies do So I had the mil to burn 'fore I turned 22 I just threw the Mazzaratti on 22, inches Cause just off interest my money grew I just turned 26, but I act my age I took care of all my bills All my tax is paid I ain't a killa but I will the rachet blades I grab ya toasta and smoke ya Like a bag a haze You don't behave like a gangsta You artificial I spit like a colla co?, you a starta pistol It ain't hard to diss you I gotta lot to say like Acki wack, acki a rat, acki gay But what chu got to say, I'm killin the game My flow dope This how da needle feel in ya vein I spit a dope 16 and you a dope fiend Straight comatose, you would prolly overdose You could tell when I was younger Hung around the older folks I'm the illest rapper It don't matter who sold the most Life short but it ain't over folks That's why every day I pray To the father, son, and the holy ghost Yeah I sold the coke, call me saint Nicholas Cause on the strip I run Through snow like it's christmas But chu ain't never flip a brick You a hypocrite Chicks on my dick cause I'm young, pretty And rich as shit i grabbed 4 and a half Then I flipped this shit Now I'm a supplier like Merlo on the wire You not a trappa, you a pathological liar Get eat till ya teeth pull out With a pair of pliers Yeah I'm fire but chu can't Throw water on me That's why ya wife and ya daughter on me I got change, but it ain't dimes, nickels And quarters on me I got real cake, but chall niggas real fake Even though I'm real great I still feel hate I might not got a grammy yet But I'm still straight Cause I'm still in the hood so I feel good And I don't need security for Me to feel safe i straight wish that I could Make all you dudes that's Takin up space go take my Homies in jail place I call weed that I sell great It's sticky weed, with no sticks, no seeds And it smell great And I ain't tryna have a cell mate But I'm grindin cause time money I ain't tryna be to hell late eARLY I get that bread boy i'm a hustla for real I get that bread boy I'm worth a couple a mil I get that bread boy So fck how you feel i ain't broke I Sell coke and got a couple a deals I get that bread boy Yeah I'm a hustla for real I get that bread boy I'm worth a couple a mil I get that bread boy So fck how you feel to get rich I hit The strip like what the fck is the deal I get that bread boy