(feat. Marilyn Rylander)
[SPM]
Uhh....one time baby, yeah
Ain't no stoppin' this movement...gotta roll with it
[First Verse (SPM):]
Land of dum-dum, is where I come from
Believe me when I tell you that you don't want none son
A long, hard road for this, latin throne
You can catch me in the club in the, back alone
So, Mama's don't let your babies grow to be gangstas
k**as taught to not give a f**, hit em up with sign language,
Reach for the stainless, leave 'em brainless,
I'm just explainin' how the game is
The strangest of things come to me at no surprise,
f** pea shooters, all my gats are supersized
Utilized all my allies, I run with bad guys,
I got seven dopehouses, that's a franchise
Man cries if he was blessed with a heart,
But I lost mine, in the backstreets of South Park
Once again it's Mister SPM,
And the sh** ain't gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen
[Chorus (Marilyn Rylander):]
He's a hustler
He's a baller
He sits on the
Latin Throne
He's a hustler
He's a baller
He sits on the
Latin Throne
[Second Verse (SPM):]
We shootin' stars, runnin' from cop cars
I got scars jumpin' metal gates and sharp bars
The hood is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar
Everyday you see me in a different crackhead's car
So bizarre how so many bullets miss my head,
I told my Mom, that I'm gonna stick with this instead
f** the crack rock , I rapped and hit the jackpot
Now I'm on a plane writin' on my laptop
It's all wiggy rockin' city to city
But I still feel my past catchin' up with me
Got more ends, bought my Mom a Gold Benz,
But she worry cuz I still got all my old friends
Hopin' that I slow up and change one day,
But these Hillwood streets got me raised one way
I told my lady one day we gone be like the Brady's
But for now I teach her how to use this three eighty
[Chorus]
[Third Verse (SPM):]
Three years and countin', I've been drinkin' from the music fountain
The Dopehouse sits in Houston like a f**in' mountain,
Who you doubtin'? This round is comin' out the South
I got non-believers with they foot in they mouth
I break guinesses, keep 'em off my premises,
Used to be menaces, now our dreams limitless
Isn't this a trip? Not a slipper or a sleeper,
n***as wantin' dope still hittin' up my beeper
But we can overcome the ghetto even G's without a mother,
Bread without bu*ter, I came crawlin' out a gutter
Born hustler, used to drive an old gas guzzler,
Fresh out the hood I was sellin' dope last summer
Servin' zombies, a following as big as Gandhi's,
Now I'm donkey dickin' Brunettes and Blondies
Jammin' Jon B., with bottles of Don P.,
The day of the Wetback has striked upon thee
[Chorus]