[South Park Mexican]

Stop at the store make my bitch pump the gas

And when we get home bitch you fitting to cut my grass

In my cutlass, 1982

My baby mama tell me Los I ain't afraid of you

Fuck you during 15 percent of all my skrilla

Man that's the mother of my children I can't kill her

So I break bread and proceed to get head

From a blonde bitch but her pussy hair red

Strawberry patch got my back scratched up

These other niggas rapping but they can't catch up

I'm blessed by the lord, Trinity keybord

Peace to Filero representng Freeport

I'ma rock the casper, cold as Alaska

I'm sipping on a twoza and a twelve ounce shasta

Docha Cabanna on my Nana Republic

I keep my shit rugged cause the real niggas love it

What's the rock cooking, nah I'm cooking rock

Got my bitch working at the butt naked spot

I'ma bunny hop my new drop out the shop

Peace to Big Chief from the what, Rap-A-Lot

I'ma hogging dog while I creep in the fog

Pull out my dick and tell my bitch I need a job

If you want service, I'm at 1-800-Murders

Flipping chickens while you niggas flipping cheeseburgers

I'm sipping on Durbas, wetter than some surfers

Man I'm so bad I should join the fucking circus

Snatching hoes purses, hope my luck reverses

I'ma take the two piece with the biscuit from Churches

No way the churches could ever clean my paper

Tell my mom I love her, tell my dad I don't hate you

Soy Carlos Coy ese vato es bien loco

Seventeen ki's and started off with one ocho



[Chorus]

We kick in doors, we robbing stores

Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life

Packing beams, destroying dreams

Sag dickie jeans, we make them see the light

In studios, with mafios, fuck jazzy hoes

It just don't ever stop, so industry, prepare for me

That double C, my nuts is all I got



[South Park Mexican]

I walk in the club niggas stare at me

Bitch you got something you want to share with me

Can't we just all live mare-ly

Motherfuckers just wishing they could burry me

I pull my quete, mom say I'm just like my jefe

Creeping my carrucha, banging screw

Tropa F, soy el S P M for my jente

They want me on the billboard to say got leche

Remember me from Reveille, X bitch was bare-ly

Everytime a nigga got shot cops questioned me

Teenage murderer, gat named Ursla

Chunked her and the baker she the bitch they searching for



[Juan Gotti]

Rolling out the hood, I came from the impossible

Up a long gonna make it to a Conoco

And if I did, what makes you think I'd have the dough

Hollering like that, is making me unstoppable

I'ma drop a fool and let him feel these things

Ghetto vero pack a fero show you who I am

I'ma make a change, didn't show the game

Want to know my name, and you heard of me

I don't love a bitch, and motherfuck a hoe

Work at Stop-&-Go, cool like an eskimo

Down to shovels, no, and blizzard blind the game

No more dying, this pusher just can't be in vein

I'ma see it, believe it we gone beat this man

In the streets of game, this shit can't stay the same

Steadily praying man, Diosito spread the wealth

He said Juanito, dope is gonna sell itself



[Chorus]



[South Park Mexican talking]

That's all I got in this, dirty, dirty fucking game

Uh, slanging cocaine, uh, and pack my little thang, uh

I got a nice aim, uh, it's about money, fuck fame

It ain't no shame, I'ma come down sun or rain

S.P. motherfucking mexicano, actin bad one throwed vato

From H-Town to Colorado, uh, that's my mato

I rock hoes, I rock shows, I pop foes, what's the deal

We in this bitch freestyling [laughs]