| I put dro in 'gars, put coke in jars
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| Gotta stay on my toes so I don’t do bars
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| I sip syrup, but if I get sleepy
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| I put my jewelry in my pocket and I head to my teepee
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| Got money and power, not a barker or growler
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| In the game with no ref, but will bury a fouler
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| Moonlight howler, in a new white Prowler
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| South Park freestyler, not a police dialer
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| Make more bread than a deli, burn rubber in belly
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| Nigga might put it in a peanut butter and jelly
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| And I get so much head up in H-Town nightclubs
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| I guess I can honestly say that life sucks
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| Crib was a mil, that’s what it costed
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| My girl from London called me a cheating bastard
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| No more broke mon, now 'Los so strong
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| The world show me more fuckin' love than a slow song
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| People always ask the same question
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| 'Losy why always so high?
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| If you only knew how I’m stressing
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| You would surely understand why
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| I meet a fan and be trippin' how they squeeze my hand
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| I remember chuggin' Busch and I’d keep the can
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| Houston bum, all I had was a stupid gun
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| And 7 black trash bags of aluminum
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| In the club I be tryna dance
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| But I look like my gramps when he fell in the plants
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| And my 'Wela didn’t think it was funny
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| I was tryna hold my laugh down deep in my tummy haha
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| My whole family get drunk and crunk
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| Then wake up in the morning like «What the fuck?»
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| Eyes bloodshot, head hurtin', and whatnot
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| 2 hours later, shootin' pool at the thug spot
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| 25 dudes and about 9 chicks
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| And they wonder why we always fightin' and shit
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| I blast you Romans, like the boy Yosemite
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| Just step if you wanna test my authenticity ahhh
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| People always ask the same question
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| 'Losy why you always so high?
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| If you only how I’m stressing
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| You would surely understand why
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| Me, I’m getting high while my broad getting low
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| Driving down Martin Luther King very slow
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| My enemies gon' catch it like the flu
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| 1 2 maybe 3 with the .45'll do Clean it up, wrap the boy in a sheet
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| Cuz you can’t just leave him all twisted on the street
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| Some sad some happy, with that girl Jackie
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| While my cousin at the war tryna help the Iraqi
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| Livin' under pressure, I pray for the soldier
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| Right across the street while she laid on the sofa
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| My best friend’s daughter got shot in a drive by Thank God she lived, but the scars never quite die
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| Lord help me, tight fist around the clip
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| I feel I can’t breathe I need revenge for this shit
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| Every time I turn around I’m tested
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| As I roll another blunt out this ounce I’m blessed with
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| People always ask the same question
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| 'Losy why you always so high?
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| If you only knew how I’m stressing
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| You would surely understand why
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| One time one time, Lord help me One time one time, Lord help me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song People , by - SPM. Song from the album The Son of Norma, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп