[SPM]
|
Yeah, I just wanna say that I love all you haters,
|
It's not your fault, you was raised to like the smell of shit
|
Us playas would like to smell the roses.
|
|
[Chorus (Marilyn Rylander):]
|
Who's over there?
|
No one said that life was fair
|
You haters come from everywhere
|
Y'all haters just because you're scared
|
|
[SPM]
|
Broken dreams, to be the coke King,
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Everyone is sleep except me and the dopefiends
|
Five A.M. sittin' on the corner,
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The day's gettin' warmer but my heart is gettin' colder
|
Sold my last boulder let the storm pass over,
|
Never touch my dope, I'm only the cash holder
|
Soldier, I sleep with one eye open,
|
In the land where you see men die smokin'
|
Let the fry soak in, water, water,
|
Hillwood cowboy, fuckin' down the farmer's daughter
|
Street saga, corner store robber,
|
Like Pasell I take your gal a la cama,
|
Baller, my block hotter than lava,
|
The wetback, in love with my mujada,
|
Papa, shit talker, they drop-uh
|
SPM, the rap Skywalker
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Low-G]
|
Which road will I travel?
|
White sand or hard gravel?
|
Fuck a friend, I don't even trust my own shadow,
|
I'm in a battle with the dirtiest of enemies,
|
Cuz I'm chippin' dope, all across the seven seas,
|
Low-G and the wheeze of the Vo-C,
|
At the ranch where my weed plants grow free
|
December 9, a child was born with no heart,
|
Since a kid, they said I wouldn't go far
|
Ghetto scars tryin' to keep away from Merro bars
|
The rudest hours, FUCK Escobar,
|
and the Diez brothers , I roll with top soldiers
|
If they approach us, I bury those cockroaches
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[SPM]
|
I ain't start from the bottom, I dug myself out a hole
|
Grabbed a pen, and taught myself how to flow
|
Now my snow crystal, my shit primo,
|
Toe taggin' haters with a tiny torpedo
|
Desillo, me and my nuts make a good trio,
|
I'm the nigga pissin' in my cup for my P.O.
|
Life hit me like a double shot of whiskey,
|
In every song I give a piece of my history
|
This be reality, they wanna battle me,
|
But that'll be the day, gather up my family
|
Packin' heat, pick 'em up like a sack of meat
|
Most my niggas dead, or walkin' round with shackled feet
|
We had to eat, you can ask these cops,
|
I bought my first hooptie with fifteen rocks
|
They smoked non-stop, I watched as the crack melted,
|
I comes real cuz I really can't help it
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[SPM]
|
Yeah this one goes out to all my players
|
Don't let them haters get you down man
|
Besides, anybody who lets a hater get em down,
|
ten times out of ten is a hater, I ain't trippin'
|
We comin' down baby 2000. It's like that baby
|
|
-----------------
|
Who's Overthere
|
| South Park Mexican |
