Artist: South Park Mexican f/ Filero
Album:  Hustle Town 
Song:   Hustle Town 
Typed by: jsierra87@aol.com, no1wammy@hotmail.com

[South Park Mexican]
{*laughing*}
Hustle Town, my city man
Born and raised, baby
Yo, I dedicate this jam to all the single mothers
Raising men in a big city
I know it's hard
Let 'em know what's up, Filero
Uh

[Verse 1: Filero]
I sell drugs with thugs, hittin' licks off tricks 
Workin' two jobs, a dope dealer and a pimp
Mom beggin' me to stop
Everyday
So scared for me to walk
Memory lane
But mom, don't worry
My tech protect well 
I told y'all one day this rap shit gone sell 
Cause my heart been broke from the start 
Since the day my father died when I was seven in the park 
So I wrote the book 
How to pimp hoes and kick doors
And if I kill, well, that's just how that shit goes
Pull your strap
What am I supposed to sweat
This the third time today that I come close to death 

Chorus: South Park Mexican
Hustle Town, Hustle Town, the city of dreams
Where we creep through the hood and we serve them dope fiends
Hustle Town, the shit don't stop
Roll rental cars and we keep the glock cocked
Hustle Town, the city of dreams
Where we creep through the hood and we serve them dope fiends
Hustle Town, the shit don't stop
Roll rental cars and we keep the glock cocked

[Verse 2: South Park Mexican]
Set 'em up, wet 'em up
Etcetera
Tell ya treasurer, "Empty the register"
Shit's serious, I'll give your life a period
Well here he is, it's the kid with experience
Don't start shit
Mistake me for an artist
Flash in the dark, someone tell 'em where his heart is 
Blue light
Who die?
Tonight
Maybe over two dice, maybe cause he blew fry 
On top of y'all with that Hillwood Mafia
Hard hittin' hustlers
Beat the drawers off of ya
Knowledge
While my shit be flawless
Dope House Records
Step into my office

Repeat Chorus

[Lord Loco]
It's that boy Lord Loco, you know what I'm talkin' about (Yeah)
Representin' that H-Town, with my boy SPM (H-Town, holmes)
There's somethin' bout' a lot of frauds out there, you know what I'm sayin' (Man)
So what you think 'bout them fraud ass niggas, Los?

[Verse 3: South Park Mexican]
You jackin' jaws
I'm packin' balls
Spark a spliff, I give more gifts than Santa Clause
With a cold forty ounce and a sack of hay 
Chug a lug, for the thugs, who done passed away 
Mister Masterful, Mystical, Mexican Maniac 
Competition, you motherfuckers make me laugh {*laughing*}
You'se a bitch if you hatin' on my Houston hits
Fight devils like you with a crucifix
Shoot this shit
With a shotty, shake ya body
Gun Kung Fu mixed with A.K. Karate 
I'm sorry
But you the past like Atari
As I smoke like Marley, stay Brown like Charlie 

Repeat Chorus