Grown Ass Men - Break Bread

«Let me tell ya something» — KRS ONE 'Rappers R N Danja'

«I just want to do my jams with fam and slam into some hypeness»

— The Artifacts 'C'mon Wit Da Git Down'

«Let me tell ya something»

«But biters and backstabbing rappers don’t even like us» — The Artifacts 'C'mon

Wit Da Git Down'

I ain’t a newjack to this, nah I’m through practicing

If the crews rapping kittle then move back a bit

Grown ass men in a game full of bad boys

Keep my name out your mouth

And my face out the tabloids

These times is as tough as a poor mans hands

In the hourglass you know you ran under sands

Abandon my plans, get a crib before I’m thirty

That shit ain’t happening when my lyrics stay dirty

And my face stays…

Unmarketable

Even that I wanna rap people think it’s remarkable

Don’t want my photo beside a bottle of Coke

Just a pile of money so big it’ll make a whale choke

No joke I know I’ll never be rich

Without an accident or having the lotto hit

Oh shit

Yeah, I think these numbers are mine

Use my mom’s birthday to pick the 6−49

But I’m

Not part of the media blitz

Just hand over the novelty check and then I split

Putting On The Ritz, Break Bread familia

Do our thing regardless of where they point the camera

I’m out

The Canadian rap scene’s Tony Soprano

Has been creating a vaccine for flowing like guano

So if you ask me, the key to success here

Is not messing with bad beats and keeping your head clear

Can’t conduct a think tank in a shit can

Maybe send your pink slip on to back to being just fans

We can’t link, there’s a fundamental rift

As your hits inch forward like continental drift

We’re not on the same page, a big stage aim

Like Big Game James, my name’s fall of fameing

And I’m out to get paid for production

No doubt what I put out is grade A construction

Got drums as a function

The organ is tuning

Those of us bumping, we be forming a union

Known to a few and, the circle is growing

There’s no time for fuming on the foolish not knowing

Smith and Pip

Gruf and Yy

Mcenroe and Honeycutt those the fucking guys

Stuffed inside a minivan

Cat napping and dogs up lamping in the cabin

Either place we make it a habit

It beez that way, man made, it ain’t magic

And I can’t relate to fanatics

Complaining, they think not being famous is tragic

Do like Pringles and stack chips

Minus the handlebar and flying to Kandahar

Mingling plastic tanks with our troops

A full time crash event

Give me loot, cash, respect, demanding the vet

Plans in effect are we gambling?

(Yes!)

Well that’s a risk I’m willing to take

Like ice grilling jake

Our shit’s killing these fakes