South Park Mexican - Don'T Hide It lyrics

rate me

Automatics be kicking, reloaded streets done exploded

And hopeless, lost on the dro'ded armored soldiers

The fully loadest, book was strong as bullets recorded lead oldies

Pour some mo', cause I got love for my dead homies

Playing bogus, reminiscing bout the days

Getting blazed, stay paid, cook my yay in microwaves

I was raised, learning plays off the pages of gangsta ways

Sharp as swisha blades, hard to finish my race

In your face, place to place flipping channels

Got the dope within the panels, from the Valley to Ingrando

Nothing we can't handle, mexicanos out of Texas

Running with the best cuz, fuck with nothing less cuz

Boy don't you hide it, roll it up and light it

It's how we do it in the Southeast

When you ride you gotta pack your piece

It's all the same up in the Northeast

Boy don't you hide it, roll it up and light it

It's how we do it in the Northwest

Put to rest if you ain't wearing your vest

It's all the same down in the Southwest

The feds on me, I reminisce about my dead homies

Now that I'm investing, trying to put some lead on me

Cops on the licks, robbing boys off since

Who's next with the plex, we knocking boys off the deck

I'm known to reck I'm Bing, I ain't gon drop my flag

I drop my sample up, and I drop your ass

Pull out and smash, just a youngsta bout his cash

I'm the first and I'm the last, I-K-E bring it bad

We sideways on lock, Grimm, Ike and Bing gon hop

Southeast be Wreckshop, time to go blast up the block

Murder murder with the glock nigga, we bust shots nigga

With dead dots nigga, the feds hot

We the realest and what not, be killas that won't stop

You niggas is gon drop, fucking with the wrong block

Off the top, this one here is for my dead homies

I'm over here reminiscing when you bled on me

The game's headed worst, riding your homie in the hears

Done praying for his soul, at the church still it hurts

To know that he's gone, thought he'd live long

Hard to stay strong, wanna know what went wrong

Still ain't nothing you could do to bring your homie back

Steady puff, pour the boo remember rolling lac

Now there's more in the pack, and the Pac and the Bigg's

Eazy-E, the hardest rapper ever lived

In the minds and hearts, of playas, ballas and pimps

That don't refine the arts, of proper measurements

Setting presidents, for all the hustlas to come

That live and die by the gun, but still gon ride till they time come