Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who ? Me., artist - Skinnyman.
Date of issue: 09.03.2005
Song language: English
Who ? Me. |
Who? |
Me, listen. |
This time when we splash, trust we’re gonna splash |
They’re gonna come up runnin' and pun us with their mash |
Men are gonna stand firm, some are gonna dash |
Some of them boys just ain’t ready for the clash |
When you don’t see your life past you by in a flash |
Cuz others wanna hate on the fat Jamaic' cash |
Everything they’ve tried to achieve has even crashed |
They’re left walkin' up and down road lookin' brassed |
Alas, most of them men are fassio’s |
Every two weeks they have to sign for dole |
I’m on another level blood, check it, I’m-a roll |
Rippin' down any spark with my famine toll |
You don’t know how that go, any way you want it |
Settin' you which way, blood I’m on it, so run it |
Who? |
Me, listen. |
I used to roll deep with a crew of nasty soldiers |
Now I hold heat, carryin' that weight on my shoulders |
The way that I’ve been raised is too much to get over |
The way the streets have tried to mould us then hold us to the pavement |
Now we’re facin' modern day enslavement |
Gettin' shift, lookin' at the world behind the jail fence |
Twenty three hours locked down is how your day’s spent |
Thinkin' 'bout the way all of my old school braves went |
Cuz I been here puttin' it down for years |
I watch my silence, screams will break the death ears |
Nothings left here but a holy but fuckery |
All over the country road is lookin' ugly, trust me |
From the age of ten years old |
Certain runnings that I’ve been through remain untold |
Who? |
Me. |
That’s why I resurface, cause everything I hear sounds worthless |
Man who wanna play your part, they know your purpose |
I know my heart, my rhyme’s stomp full of curses |
Makin' every one around me start actin' nervous |
Call doctors and nurses, emergency services |
Pull it back like cartwheel spin reverses |
Check my verses, the way I’m puttin' 'em down |
The way I’m shuttin' 'em down, I’m not fuckin' around |
I’m cleanin' up town like some old street sweepers |
In broad daylight, I roll with night time creepers |
Whoever want to eat us, beef us or show my peeps love |
The others can meet their Grim Reapers |
Forget bein' six feet deep dug, it don’t matter |
After I’ve left ya with ya scull bone shattered |
The heads that you see me roll ain’t no rappers |
Gun clappers who live like nuttin don’t matter |