Lyrics South Park Mexican

South Park Mexican

People

I put dro in 'gars, put coke in jars

Gotta stay on my toes so I don't do bars

I sip syrup, but if I get sleepy

I put my jewelry in my pocket and I head to my teepee

Got money and power, not a barker or growler

In the game with no ref, but will bury a fouler

Moonlight howler, in a new white Prowler

South Park freestyler, not a police dialer

Make more bread than a deli, burn rubber in belly

Nigga might put it in a peanut butter and jelly

And I get so much head up in H-Town nightclubs

I guess I can honestly say that life sucks

Crib was a mil, that's what it costed

My girl from London called me a cheating bastard

No more broke mon, now 'Los so strong

The world show me more fuckin' love than a slow song

People always ask the same question

'Losy why always so high?

If you only knew how I'm stressing

You would surely understand why

I meet a fan and be trippin' how they squeeze my hand

I remember chuggin' Busch and I'd keep the can

Houston bum, all I had was a stupid gun

And 7 black trash bags of aluminum

In the club I be tryna dance

But I look like my gramps when he fell in the plants

And my 'Wela didn't think it was funny

I was tryna hold my laugh down deep in my tummy haha

My whole family get drunk and crunk

Then wake up in the morning like "What the fuck?"

Eyes bloodshot, head hurtin', and whatnot

2 hours later, shootin' pool at the thug spot

25 dudes and about 9 chicks

And they wonder why we always fightin' and shit

I blast you Romans, like the boy Yosemite

Just step if you wanna test my authenticity ahhh

People always ask the same question

'Losy why you always so high?

If you only how I'm stressing

You would surely understand why

Me, I'm getting high while my broad getting low

Driving down Martin Luther King very slow

My enemies gon' catch it like the flu

1 2 maybe 3 with the .45'll do

Clean it up, wrap the boy in a sheet

Cuz you can't just leave him all twisted on the street

Some sad some happy, with that girl Jackie

While my cousin at the war tryna help the Iraqi

Livin' under pressure, I pray for the soldier

Right across the street while she laid on the sofa

My best friend's daughter got shot in a drive by

Thank God she lived, but the scars never quite die

Lord help me, tight fist around the clip

I feel I can't breathe I need revenge for this shit

Every time I turn around I'm tested

As I roll another blunt out this ounce I'm blessed with

People always ask the same question

'Losy why you always so high?

If you only knew how I'm stressing

You would surely understand why

One time one time, Lord help me

One time one time, Lord help me