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yuri joness - break bread lyrics

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[intro]
oh, oh
it’s trax season bruh

[chorus]
i want the finer things, i ain’t have sh-t
break bread with my n-ggas, now we lit
i just need a cold hundred on my wrist
chauffeur, i ain’t even got a whip
yo girl with me in the six
i’ma have to show her how to ride stick
i don’t ever break bread with a b-tch
n-ggas throwin’ shots but they always miss

[verse 1]
what you talkin’ bout, i’m getting money now
i ain’t flexin’, i’m just trying to get my momma out
i found another route, already mapped it out
tell the club owner i’ma get him another couch
two-tone on my wrist, that’s a bust down
bottle service every time we in the club now
why you creepin’ into this section?
you not allowed
n-ggas fight over p-ssy that we just p-ss around
i get money from another world, jimmy neutron
go support your baby mother, she sleep on a futon
i ain’t nothing like these other n-ggas, don’t compare me
and they done put me in a booth and now it’s getting scary
no co-signs, f-ck a feature, i’ma get it on my own
baby, i ain’t trying to see it, just leave me the f-ck alone
n-ggas shootin’ up in the club, i’m going pr-ne
you ain’t got enough money so you can’t take her home

[chorus]
i want the finer things, i ain’t have sh-t
break bread with my n-ggas, now we lit
i just need a cold hundred on my wrist
chauffeur, i ain’t even got a whip
yo girl with me in the six
i’ma have to show her how to ride stick
i don’t ever break bread with a b-tch
n-ggas throwin’ shots but they always miss

[verse 2]
get some head and make a track, hit two birds with one stone
that boy ain’t with the sh-ts, he just talkin’ out his dome
told my momma that i’ma get her a million dollar home
so i can smoke in the crib, ain’t gotta hear her tone
what you doin’, girl? let me interrupt your plans
and why you pressed ’cause i ain’t comment on your instagram?
and i support the hustle but no i am not a fan
ain’t gotta front for n0body, this sh-t’s just who i am
i know the money is comin’, the hunger just made me want it
my first influence was the trap and so i went to an onion
too many b-tches up in the spot, i can’t breathe
and all these winners up in my circle, she can’t lead
yeah, hood n-gga but i party like a rockstar
happy to say i’ve never been inside a cop car
switchin’ them lanes in that new gt-r
go ahead and try it, i don’t think you’re gonna get far

[chorus]
i want the finer things, i ain’t have sh-t
break bread with my n-ggas, now we lit
i just need a cold hundred on my wrist
chauffeur, i ain’t even got a whip
yo girl with me in the six
i’ma have to show her how to ride stick
i don’t ever break bread with a b-tch
n-ggas throwin’ shots but they always miss

[outro]
it’s trax season, bruh



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