Latin Throne - South Park Mexican

Land of dum dum is where i come from

Believe me when i tell u that u dont want none son

A long hard road 4 this Latin throne

You can catch me at the club in the back alone

Mamas dont 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 thats 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 u see me in a different crackhead’s car

So bizzare how so many bullets missed my head

I told my mom that im 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 u 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

Isnt 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