South Park Mexican - Gangsterous lyrics

rate me

(One time baby...for all my G's, for all my G's uh...)

[SPM]

Pistol grip pump on my lap at all times

Still I got thump like the boy Carmine

Hold the block down in my camouflage suit

Stomp when I walk and I'm stackin all loot

Bling in my mouth but I can take it out

Stepping up to me, something people think about

Long and hard til they lose courage

Mad cause they girl beat up and malnourished

Picked up a star and she spunt two nights

Chilled at my crib watchin Kung Fu fights

Swang and I swung from the Houston

Bet I go hard with no interruption

Woodgrain wheel with the big daddy grill

Higher than a hill, in my automobile

And we roll thick, takin no shit

45 on hip with the hollow point tip

[Chorus: X2]

We're comin gangsta, and gangsta's how we come

We're commin gangsta and wreckin for Houston

[Powda]

Break it down, watch me clown I'mma break'em off

Can't fuck with this Mexican Bitch from the South

Under oath keep it true at all times

Love smoking weed and I love bustin rhymes

Fine dime, stay fly keep it tight like a rubba

Just fuck'em , don't love'em, like my shit undercova

Cause I'mma Hustla, gettin mine by any means

Don't be supprised, I aint quiet bout where the green

I like, I need, so that's how it be

You can hit it or quit it, believe I will proceed

Next - soon as I put cess in my chest

I forget, I ain't the type of chick you'll be hittin for free

Comin' gangsta, better believe and respect

Me and that boy S.P. reppin Houston Tex

[Chorus: X2]

[SPM]

Yo, it's the boy Los in a smoke gray 'Lac

Forver be puttin Hillwood on the map

Rollin with ten pounds of steel on my lap

I'mma let you know that I stay about that

Popped up pretty in a screwed up city

Might come Puerto Rican broad like Diddy

Might come Arabian or Venezuelan

'Mote control radio, 84 swangin

Mix the drank up, po it in my dang cup

My girl on the phone trippin so I hang up

Playboy status, man it's hard to break habits

Go through mo' cabbage than a pack of damn rabbits

Two cella-tels, million record sales

See ya boys puttin' caine in ya nostrills

I rock Phillys, my 'Lac pop wheelies

Now I'm locked up with a dude that robbed Chillies

[Chorus:]