Red Beams and Rice - South Park Mexican

[South Park Mexican]
Stop at the store make my b_tch pump the gas
And when we get home b_tch you fitting to cut my grass
In my cutlass, 1982
My baby mama tell me Los I ain't afraid of you
F_ck 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 b_tch but her p_ssy hair red
Strawberry patch got my back scratched up
These other n_ggas 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 sh_t rugged cause the real n_ggas love it
What's the rock cooking, nah I'm cooking rock
Got my b_tch working at the b_tt 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 d_ck and tell my b_tch I need a job
If you want service, I'm at 1-800-Murders
Flipping chickens while you n_ggas flipping cheeseburgers
I'm sipping on Durbas, wetter than some surfers
Man I'm so bad I should join the f_cking 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

We kick in doors, we robbing stores
Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life
Packing beams, destroying dreams
Sag d_ckie jeans, we make them see the light
In studios, with mafios, f_ck 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 n_ggas stare at me
B_tch you got something you want to share with me
Can't we just all live mare-ly
Motherf_ckers 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 b_tch was bare-ly
Everytime a n_gga got shot cops questioned me
Teenage murderer, gat named Ursla
Chunked her and the baker she the b_tch 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 b_tch, and motherf_ck 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 sh_t can't stay the same
Steadily praying man, Diosito spread the wealth
He said Juanito, dope is gonna sell itself


[South Park Mexican talking]
That's all I got in this, dirty, dirty f_cking game
Uh, slanging c_caine, uh, and pack my little thang, uh
I got a nice aim, uh, it's about money, f_ck fame
It ain't no shame, I'ma come down sun or rain
S.P. motherf_cking 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 b_tch freestyling [laughs]

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