Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who ? Me, artist - Kam. 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 |