Bread & Butter Songtext
von Your Old Droog

Check it out, yeah, uh-huh

If I could turn back the hands of time
Who knew the artists I was once a fan of would be fans of mine?
Had plans to shine and be successful
And although life was stressful, I always knew that I was special (I just knew)
Ain′t have a penny to my name like Hardaway
Had big dreams, but everything seemed so far away
The thought alone can make you squeamish, but you are who you are
No matter how high or low your self-esteem is

We don't sleep, we power nap
Now I′m turnin' down features from cats I listened to when I was learnin' how to rap
Talkin′ back to days of rubber ducks, shower caps
Mom screamin′ on me 'fore we hit the streets with Sour Patch
In the livin′ room doin' a Michael Buffer-style talk up
They wasn′t checkin' for us in that second floor walk-up
First chance we got, fled the gutter
But even back then when times were hard, we ate caviar on bread and butter


Do or die, it′s poor pimpin'
There used to be a bum in my hood who looked like a white George Clinton
Walkin' down the block smellin′ like Smirnoff (Funkadelic)
Standin′ on the stoops while Tyson chewed Holyfield's ear off
That was ′97, remember seein' smoke in the air from 9-11
If you need God, find a reverend
Need a rabbi? Go to the synagogue and send the cards
Nothin′ but heat like Noah with they son of God

It's so timely, they playin′ both sides like Ohtani
I don't give a damn who cosign me
Even when them cats brought up my name, they spoke fondly (always)
Next award show, I might pull up with Kalani
Sidepiece look like Ronnie from Players Club
Remember cats would front on Wild D
And Insanities were straight-up scrubs
They never dapped him or gave us hugs
This for a cat who brought New York back, more times than Flavor of Love

Bumpin' 2Pac on the I-730
Many times I had to question weather with my 7:30
Got caught inside a hard place between Shep and Birdie
Still do it for the fans in the stands who never heard me (they hear me now)
There′s no such thing as low management
Them heads is bald, standin′ in the stall like some old mannequins
Never had to lay my head in the gutter (never)
I always could come home to a cup of tea
And a slice of cheese on bread and butter


You cheddar Bob
When you pass away, they'll say he gave you the
Shirt off his back ′cause you stay gettin' robbed
Think your shit is more classical? Go get a harp
Gotta tickle pull strings like Rosetta Tharpe, motherfucker

Know what I′m sayin'?
You gotta put that emphatic "motherfucker" at the end of the verse
I don′t know who came up with that, but it's a thing