founded Dope House Records and, in the same year Hillwood was released. In 1995 along with brother Arthur Coy Jr. The struggling Carlos eventually sought out opportunity. He hoped to get a business associate’s degree however he had failed all of his classes. Later Carlos had gotten his GED and enrolled into San Jacinto Junior College. In 1987 he dropped out of the ninth grade while attending Milby High school at the age of sixteen. He went to Welch Middle School where he was in a music magnet program. He relocated to several elementary schools. His mother had to take the reigns as the head of the house hold and, Carlos’s sister Sylvia took primary care of him. and mother Norma marriage ended when he was three years old. Carlos grew up in a broken home former-marine father Arthur Coy Sr. The young Carols experienced some what of a troubled youth. I guess the point I’m trying to make is he’s defied the odds several occasions and production with Dope House Records Chief Engineer /Producer, Grammy Award winner, Jamie “Pain” Ortiz is sure to be another milestone in the labels history. Every artist has his or her ups and downs maybe it’s a work ethic to keep moving forward to what is most important. So what if he’s a high school dropout and had trouble as he grew up. Time after time he has proven to do what he does. Carlos has claimed, “The more they hate the stronger we become”. Although there certainly are mixed emotions and skeptics linking some criticism to Dope House Records yet the indie label is still pulsating. There are so many titles it would take way to long for me to name them all. Real talk, personally I have several favorite tracks like: Jackers in My Home, SPM Diaries, Hubba Hubba, Streets on Beasts. I remember I was attending high school when I first heard SPM. Now I’ll go one-on-one into the mind of the man who built the house and, of course I mean Dope House. Writer(s): Lawrence Gurule, Carlos CoyLyrics powered by mark’s 10 years since rapper South Park Mexican (SPM) who’s birth name is Carlos Coy has been incarcerated. Memory lane But Mom don′t worry my teck protect well I told ya one day this rap shit gone sell But my heart been broke from the start Since the day my father died when I was seven in the park So I wrote the book How to pimp hoes and kick do's And if I kill well than that′s just how the shit go Pull yo strap What am I supposed to sweat This the third time today that I come close to death Hustle Town Hustle Town The city of dreams Where we creep through the hood And we serve them dope fiends Hustle Town The shit don't stop Roll rental cars And we keep the glock cocked Hustle Town The city of dreams Where we creep through the hood And we serve them dope fiends Hustle Town The shit don′t stop Roll rental cars And we keep the glock cocked Set 'em up Wet 'em up Etceteras Tell ya treasura Empty the regista Shit serious I′ll give ya life a period Well here he is The kid with experience Don′t start shit Mistake me for an artist Flash in the dark Someone tell 'em where his heart is Blue light Who die? Tonight Maybe over two dice Maybe cause he blew fry On top of ya With the Hillwood Mafia Hard hittin′ hustlas Beat the draws off of ya Knowledge While my shit be flawless Dope House Records step into my office It's ya boy Lord Loco Know what I′m talkin' bout Representin′ that H-Town wit my boy SPM There's a lot of frauds out there know what I'm sayin′ What you think ′bout them fraud ass niggas Los? Jackin' jaws I′m packin' balls Smoke and split I give mo′ gifts than Santa Clause Wit a cold forty-ounce and a sack of hay Chug a lug for the thugs who done passed away Mista da Masta Mystical Mexican Maniac Competition ha ha You muthafuckas make me laugh You a bitch if you hatin' on my Houston hits I fight devils like you wit a crucifix Ruthless shit With a shotty Take ya body Gun Kung Fu Mixed wit AK Karate I′m sorry but you the past like Atari As I smoke like Marley Stay Brown like Charlie Eh he he he he Hustle Town my city maan! Born and raised baby Yo I dedicate this jam to all the single mothers Raisin′ men in a big city I know it's hard Let ′em know what's up Filero I sell drugs with thugs Hittin' licks off tricks Workin′ two jobs a dope deala and a pimp Mom′s beggin' me to stop everyday So scared for me to walkâ?¦.
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