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South Park Mexican
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South Park Mexican

Latin Throne lyrics

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South Park Mexican – Latin Throne lyrics

Latin throne
Land of dum dum is where I come from
Believe me when I tell you that you don't want none son
A long hard road 4 this Latin throne
You can catch me at the club in the back alone
Mamas don't let your babies grow up 2 be gangstas
Killas taught 2 not give a fuck
Hit 'em up with sign language
Reach 4 tha stainless, Leave 'em brainless
I'm just explainin' how the game is
The strangest of things come 2 me at no surprise
Fuck peashooters all my gats are superiszed
Utilize all my allies, I run with the bad guys
I got 7 dopehouses that's a franchise
Man cries if he was blessed with a heart
But I lost mine in the backstreets of South Park
Once again it's Mr. Spm
And this shit aint gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen
He's a hustla, He's a balla, He sits on the, Latin throne
We shootin' stars, runnin' from cop cars
I got scars jumpin metal gates and sharp pars
The hood is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar
Everyday you see me in a different crackhead's car
So bizzare how so many bullets missed my head
I told my mom that I'm gonna stick with this instead
Fuck the crackrock, I rapped and hit the jackpot
Now I'm on a plane writin' on my laptop
It's all wiggy rockin' city 2 city
But I still feel my past catchin' up with me
Got mo' ends, bought my mom a gold Benz
But she worried cuz I still got all my old friends
Hopin' that I slow up and change one day
But these Hillwood streets got me raised one way
I told my old lady one day we gon' be like the Bradys
But for now i'll teach you how 2 use this 380
3yrs and counting I been drinking from the music fountain
The dopehouse sits in Houston like a fuckin mountian
Who you doubtin', this browns comin' out the south
I got 9 believers with they foot in they mouth
I break guineses, Keep 'em off my premesis
Used 2 be menaces, Now our dreams limitless
Isn't this a trip, not a slipper or a sleeper
Niggaz wantin dope still hittin' up my beeper
We can overcome the ghetto, even g's without a mother
Bread without butter I came crawling out a gutter
Born hustla, used 2 drive an old gas guzzler
Fresh out tha hood, I was sellin' dope last summer
Servin' zombies all followin' as big as Ghandis
Now I'm throwed diggin' brunettes and blondies
Jammin Jon B with bottles of Don P
The day of the wetback has striked upon thee

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