Who’s Over There (feat. Low-G & Marilyn Rylander)
(SPM speaking)
I just want to say, I love all you haters
It's not your fault. You was raised to like the smell of shit.
Us players... We like the smell of roses.
(Female singing)
Who's over there?
No one said that life was fair.
You haters come from everywhere.
Ya'll hate us just because you're scared.
(SPM)
Broken Dreams, to be the coke King
Everyone asleep except me and the dope fiends
5 a.m. sittin on the corner
The day's gettin warmer, but my heart's gettin colder
Sold my last bolder, 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 wata wata.
Hillwood cowboy fuckin down the farmer's daughter
Street saga, corner store robba
Like Parcel I'll take yo gal a la cama.
Balla, my block hotta than lava.
The wetback, in love with my mojada.
Poppa, shit talka, dick droppa
SPM, the rap Skywalker.
Chorus
(Low G)
Which road will I travel?
White sand or hot 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 shippin dope all across the 7 seas.
Low G and that Wizard of OZ
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 metal bars.
That hood is ours. Fuck Escobar.
And the Diaz brothas. I roll with top soldiers.
If they approach us. I'll 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 creased out
My shit's primo
Toe taggin haters with a tiny torpedo
The C.E.O.
Me and my nuts make a good trio.
I'm the nigga pissin in a 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 walk around with shackled feet.
We had to eat. You can ask these cops.
I bought my first hoopty with 15 rocks.
They smoke nonstop. I watched as the crack melted.
I come real cuz I really can't help it
Chorus and out
I just want to say, I love all you haters
It's not your fault. You was raised to like the smell of shit.
Us players... We like the smell of roses.
(Female singing)
Who's over there?
No one said that life was fair.
You haters come from everywhere.
Ya'll hate us just because you're scared.
(SPM)
Broken Dreams, to be the coke King
Everyone asleep except me and the dope fiends
5 a.m. sittin on the corner
The day's gettin warmer, but my heart's gettin colder
Sold my last bolder, 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 wata wata.
Hillwood cowboy fuckin down the farmer's daughter
Street saga, corner store robba
Like Parcel I'll take yo gal a la cama.
Balla, my block hotta than lava.
The wetback, in love with my mojada.
Poppa, shit talka, dick droppa
SPM, the rap Skywalker.
Chorus
(Low G)
Which road will I travel?
White sand or hot 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 shippin dope all across the 7 seas.
Low G and that Wizard of OZ
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 metal bars.
That hood is ours. Fuck Escobar.
And the Diaz brothas. I roll with top soldiers.
If they approach us. I'll 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 creased out
My shit's primo
Toe taggin haters with a tiny torpedo
The C.E.O.
Me and my nuts make a good trio.
I'm the nigga pissin in a 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 walk around with shackled feet.
We had to eat. You can ask these cops.
I bought my first hoopty with 15 rocks.
They smoke nonstop. I watched as the crack melted.
I come real cuz I really can't help it
Chorus and out
Credits
Writer(s): Carlos Coy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
- El Jugador (The Player) [feat. Kid Frost & Low-G]
- You Know My Name
- Latin Throne (feat. Marilyn Rylander)
- I Must Be High - Feat. Russell Lee
- Filthy Rich (feat. Marilyn Rylander)
- Street’s On Beat’s
- High So High (feat. Marilyn Rylander)
- I Need A Sweet - Feat. Angela Perez & Baby Beesh (Bash)
- Somethin’ I Would Do - Feat. Baby Beesh (Bash)
- Twice Last Night
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.