Текст песне
South Park Mexican The Last Chair Violinist

eva Slangin hierba diez bolas al toke Slangin ink con placazos al sobres Slang my cornbread, dessert and a juice Saw my homeboy get shot on the news Now you know what this Mexican

Is it real, Tell me are we real, Are u just sayin' things that I wanna hear, Are u really true, Baby is it destiny, Are u the one that god made and he

Attack your whole staff like a pack full of pit bulls You simple, I'm complex And coming on next, oh take a wild guess, the South Park Mex Spark sess

Spooniqua: Girl I like this club, that DJ is jamming, did you see Dope house veldja looking at you? Yaya: Oh ya,ya, see that man, he looks fine man!

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

s too fat, the banks can't cash it Gimmie ten days, meanwhile i got plastic Country to country I live in hotels No ashy elbows, pedicured toenails Sittin on a beach chair

at night (BASH) Hit the-hit the dope house cause I had to recop it I need some Purity so I screwed it and chopped it Haters can't block it, f!*?# a ___ ___ Mexican

things that I asked the Reverend, "Excuse me sir, but can Mexicans go to Heaven?" The other day I spoke to the Reverend, to see if he'd say that Mexicans

Im meatin up wihe governa, 3 2 andthe Hillwood husla im comin sraight out the head though, from the brain representin my ghetto, its a trip how they