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