SPM - Latin Throne Lyrics

[Verse 1:]Land of dum dum is where I come fromBelieve me when I tell you that you don't want none sonA long hard road 4 this Latin ThroneYou can catch me at the club in the back aloneMama's, don't let your babies grow up 2 be gangsta'sKiller's taught us 2 not give a fuckHit 'em up with sign languageReach 4 the stainless, Leave 'em brainlessI'm just explainin' how the game isThe strangest of things come 2 me at no surpriseFuck peashooters all my gats are superiszedUtilize all my allies, I run with the bad guysI got 7 Dope House's that's a franchiseMan cries if he was blessed with a heartBut I lost mine in the backstreets of South ParkOnce again it's Mr. SPM& this shit ain't gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen.He's a hustler, He's a baller, He sits on the Latin Throne. [x2][Verse 2:]We shootin' stars, runnin' from cop carsI got scars jumpin' metal gates & sharp parsThe hood is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jarEveryday you see me in a different crackhead's carSo bizzare how so many bullets missed my headI told my mom that I'm gonna stick with this insteadFuck the crackrock, I rapped & hit the jackpotNow I'm on a plane writin' on my laptopIt's all wiggy rockin' city 2 cityBut I still feel my past catchin' up with meGot mo' ends, bought my mom a gold BenzBut she worried cause I still got all my old friendsHopin' that I slow up & change one dayBut these Hillwood streets got me raised one wayI told my old lady one day we gon' be like the Brady'sBut for now I'll teach you how 2 use this 380.He's a hustler, he's a baller, he sits on the Latin Throne. [x2][Verse 3:]3 years & countin' I been drinkin' from the music fountainThe Dope House sits in Houston like a fuckin' mountain.Who you doubtin'? This browns comin' out the southI got 9 believers with they foot in they mouthI break guineses, Keep 'em off my premesisUsed 2 be menaces, Now our dreams limitless.Isn't this a trip? Not a slipper or a sleeperNiggas wantin' dope still hittin' up my beeperWe can overcome the ghetto, even G's without a motherBread without butter I came crawlin' out a gutterBorn hustler, used 2 drive an old gas guzzlerFresh out the hood, I was sellin' dope last summerServin' zombies all followin' as big as Yhandi'sNow I'm throwed diggin' brunettes & blondiesJammin' Jon B with bottles of Dom PThe day of the wetback has striked upon thee.He's a hustler, he's a baller, he sits on the Latin Throne. [x2]