Gangsterous Lyrics - South Park Mexican

(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:]