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[Intro - Jammie Sommers] [RZA]:
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Yo, yeah yeah, yo what?
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[Gotta spit on these bitches real quick]
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Yea, Jammie Sommers bring the thunder, what?
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[Word up, doo-doo stain bitches]
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Yo, yo, uh-huh, yo..
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[Jammie Sommers]
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Yo save John Bennett, trauma John Bell
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Lace stay in my equality, mic oddessey
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Judy Plum, ghetto tag on the drum
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Nestle in the glass, I was plunged, double-edged tongue
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Pearly handle, scroll Brooklyn, we bouncin, commercial keep lookin
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Pussy tight ginger, turn rough cats to cringers
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Make him surrender is car and legal tender
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Sunshine on time, manifest all time 'tween beams
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because I study all true reality, sculpted by my Wallabees
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Study righteous God Degree, yo..
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[Both]
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We Break Bread and deal with equality
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[RZA]
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Yo check it, my break and deal with this son
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Explicit lyrical orgy, you bitches smell like dead foggy hoe
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While Jammie splash you with the bottle of Giorgio
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or Chanel's No. 5, dog bitch you can't survive
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You buy and shoot some straw ride, ya tried to glide on B.O.B.B.Y.
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Jammie Sommers, treat her like my daughter, real niggaz wanna **** her
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Pass a quart of milk, crab, clam, possum, wild flower blossomin
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Power-U, have you gaspin for your oxygen
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Gold bra straps, fine pointed, purple star Gaps
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Cowboy boots and tastle, with the straw hat
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You derelict hoes, we **** y'all without pullin down our clothes
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While your nigga wish to lick Jammie Sommers' toes
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Imaginate, you best to go home son and masturbate
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or put your ten dollars up and buy the fat tape
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[Jammie Sommers]
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Yo, a hundred thousand, two hundred and fifty cash
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Yo now, watch Miss Sommers, shake that ass
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Yo, you love the way my brother splash
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Chain reaction keep you puzzled
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Mouth muscle, card shuffle, belt buckle
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Jammie S'll never kiss ass after I close a deal
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You best to believe this rap shit I say is for real
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A lot of y'all bitches be good earners with two out
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Take too many chances, chillin with niggaz, lampin
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Profilin, wildin, Jammie hung with the realty smilin
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Takin shots at Louie the thirteenth, and tie you up
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bathed in Sheik, so you could watch your man beat his meat
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Cuz, uh, lodi dodi, I got the body
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And tutti fruiti, I got the booty
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I shake, my rump, all in ya face
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Make a bitch tie my sneaker lace
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Cuz A is for Apple and J is for Jack
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And most of y'all bitches ain't go no hair in the back
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And ya tracks is wack
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