1. A Latin-American rapper… Read Full Bio ↴There are at least two artists with this name
1. A Latin-American rapper
2. A Finnish rap group
1. South Park Mexican (born Carlos Coy, October 5, 1970 in Houston, Texas) is a rapper whose stage name is derived from the South Park neighborhood in which he was raised; the acronym SPM was used on some of his releases. In 2002, he was convicted of child molestation and is currently serving a 45-year prison sentence.
In 1995, Carlos, along with his brother Arthur, founded his own record label, Dope House Records. He later released his second album, Hustle Town, through his label with distribution in Houston under Southwest Wholesale. In 2000, he signed a joint venture between his label and Universal Music Group, which earned him a $500,000 advance and national distribution. In total he has released nine very successful albums.
2. Finnish rap band with members Siniset Punaiset Miehet, Mr. Kotka, and Veli Stöö.
Revenge
SPM Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
My homie called me in the morning from a hospital bed
He got holes in his body from a glock full of lead
He said, three motherfuckers that his lady knows
Tried to jack his ass for his 84's
Now in a Ben Taub sick bed, my homie lays up
He got sprayed up, 'cause he wouldn't raise
Them folks sayin' that he'd never walk the same
It sounds like a job for the uzi gat
And where the fuck did your bitch say these fools be at?
For a real long time, we been the best of friends
And I'll be damned if a nigga don't get revenge
I feel anger, that I'm no stranger to
Bustin' slugs in they guts just a thang to do
Why they pray for you, come and spray they crew
Got love for my homies, I thought you knew?
He said "Los don't sweat it, let this shit alone,"
but with these punk motherfuckers I must pick a bone
Now will it be the cranium or the chest plate?
Necks break back, snap, put him in checkmate
Lead take me to vengeance, send this
Ripping through tendons I end this
Because you bleed inside and it hurts to cough
I can't take no advice I gots to break them off
Chorus:
'cause my revenge, it tastes so sweet, I gotta do,
What my friends, would do for me,
You muthafuckas gotta beg,
y'all askin' for action,
Eat a fuckin' K,
I'm blastin' some asses
'cause my revenge, it tastes so sweet, I gotta do,
What my friends, would do for me,
You muthafuckas gotta beg,
y'all askin' for action,
Eat a fuckin' K,
I'm blastin' some asses
Second Verse:
My niggas check me, I'm thinkin' of a master plan
I'm straight up blastin' glocks, them fuckin' bastards ran
I'm steady missin' all my homies that done bit the dust
Got revenge 'cause them bitches wasn't shit to us
Now what the fuck can I accomplish?
And when I'm dead, will I find myself on God's list?
Every night I give, thanks I wouldn't die today
Turnin' cane into crack and my mic away
We dealin' 'cause we feelin' that the, pay's right
Hopin' Mama never see me at my, grave site
No daylight, play night cautiously
Could be death, or my freedom what it's costin' me
Lost in dear life my wife be that Mary Jane
And my streets got me strollin' blueberry Lane
Very same song sung in the South
From the mouth of a hustler, never have I trusted a
Trick or a hoe or a dope fiend either
'cause they smoke like a beaver buildin' dams on the river
Live a, life of a "G' til' the d - a - why
Hittin' switches on the freeway high
Don't reply 'cause me don't give a fuck
What you hoes got to say about me Hillwood funk
Chorus
Third Verse:
Stop short in your tracks
Gats got the place surrounded
Sounded two warning shots, fuck on up and you'll be grounded
Pounded bodies with a bunch of twelve gauges
Now her face is too straight in the fuckin' dog cages
Pages of my book, turn like the wind blows
On the paper of a crook, muthafuck them hoes
Hittin' flows as a hustler, rose as a "G"
Saves his flows to big 8, now he scores half a ki
Some say in his head he got insanity inside
But all it really be is mathematically inclined
Look behind, you might find others takin' over
Rookies movin' cookies, they whipped in baking soda
Baby learn the fuckin' rules, my cheese, is SOLID AS A ROCK
With my homies and we BALLIN' WITH A GLOCK
Tenderoni phony fraud motherfuckers
Best to get out the game, 'fore you die motherfuckers
Bustas trust us, but us hustlas trust no one
You can sure run with no gun
That be a nigga slow guns
So roll one of them sweets
Chug-a-lug on the eightball
And see where this motherfuckin life is gonna take y'all
And haters might fall
Chorus
The lyrics to SPM's "Revenge" depict a situation where the singer's friend has been shot by three individuals who tried to jack him for his car. The friend ends up in the hospital with multiple gunshot wounds, and the singer feels a strong sense of anger and the need for vengeance. He contemplates how he should take revenge and whether he should aim for the cranium or chest plate. He decides that he needs to punish those responsible and take the law into his own hands.
The chorus of the song emphasizes the importance of revenge, stating that it tastes sweet and is what friends would do for one another. The second verse shows how the singer's friends support him, and they work together to get revenge by chasing down and shooting the attackers. The final verse speaks to the harsh realities of a life of crime and the importance of trust and loyalty among hustlers.
Overall, the song portrays a life of violence and crime where people are quick to take revenge against those who wrong them. It highlights the often-brutal nature of street life and the moral ambiguities involved in seeking justice outside of the law.
Line by Line Meaning
My homie called me in the morning from a hospital bed
My friend called me from the hospital bed after getting shot.
He said, three motherfuckers that his lady knows
He identified the three people who tried to rob him.
Tried to jack his ass for his 84's
The robbers attempted to steal his car.
He got sprayed up, 'cause he wouldn't raise
He got shot because he resisted the robbery.
It sounds like a job for the uzi gat
The situation requires the use of a gun.
And where the fuck did your bitch say these fools be at?
Where exactly did your partner say the robbers could be found?
Why they pray for you, come and spray they crew
Those who pretend to care for you are the same ones who will hurt you.
But with these punk motherfuckers I must pick a bone
I have to confront these weak individuals who robbed my friend.
Now will it be the cranium or the chest plate?
Which body part should I target to inflict the most damage?
Eat a fuckin' K, I'm blastin' some asses
I will use an automatic weapon to kill them all.
Now what the fuck can I accomplish?
What can I achieve by seeking revenge?
And when I'm dead, will I find myself on God's list?
Will I be punished for my actions in the afterlife?
Hopin' Mama never see me at my, grave site
I hope my mother never has to bury me.
Hittin' flows as a hustler, rose as a "G"
I am successful in the criminal world, respected as a gangster.
Saves his flows to big 8, now he scores half a ki
I save my money and invest in large quantities of drugs to make a profit.
Bustas trust us, but us hustlas trust no one
People who are not part of the criminal world trust us, but we do not trust anyone.
You can sure run with no gun
You can escape without a weapon, but not for long.
And haters might fall
Enemies can be defeated.
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: RANDY FREDRIX
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind