Artist: South Park Mexican Album: Hillwood Song: H-Town G-Funk Typed by: younghtownplaya@aol.com, no1wammy@hotmail.com [South Park Mexican] (Verse 1) My sweet 'Llac fall back, just creeping on three wheels A bitch to my right cocked giving me cheap thrills I see meals Coming down my path In the ghetto cat's wrath, making math I'm the last to blast, on that ass, now you the past It's no joke, you get smoked like buddah grass Who the fastest Punk, I'm like Cassius And when I crash this, you catch WHIP lashes Bitch, I'm on a mission, to listen And give descriptions Hung G's in my hood and their intentions I hear gunshots ringing like hell's bells I see drug sells, check out my thug tales Fuck jails, bank swells keeps hella grip And I can sell dope on ice And never slip They serving Kibbles N' Bits while I'm cuttin' bricks Save my crumbs for the ones who sucking dicks I may get rich on the ditch, you quick snap I left that cut, now they wonder where the bricks at My green shit stacks Still clip packs Thirty-six Lead homies, so don't trip jack It's the wetback, hittin' on the bongs Son, in the long run, I'll be the strong one Hook: South Park Mexican If you step in my hood, bitch, you will get blasted It's nothin' but that H-Town G-funk If you step in my hood, bitch, you will get blasted It's nothin' but that H-Town G-funk Repeat Hook [South Park Mexican] Yeah, this for all them hustlers in Hillwood, South Park Hun (Verse 2) I told ya Boy, you must have caught amnesia Tryin' to jack, now you're on your back, breathin' anastesia You got blasted, cause you trespassed it They never lasted In the game I mastered You stupid bastard, tell me what's your final word Before I let this lead tip, hit your spinal cord Oh, you was ready, just beggin' to gank me Now your ass is just dead and stanky I put my foot, in your shit like the hokey pokey Leave the scene, now everything's okey dokey Your homies know me But they won't FUCK with this Cause now they know That I can sure BUCK a bitch I'm the macker, plus the gun packer So you little jackers Best stick to [{*crackers*}] Cause fucking with this Mex gets your neck broke Stuck like Chuck Straight fucked, and in check, loc Cause I think fast, when I'm in the slow lane Get in my domain, and fall back with no brain So don't raid Or try to rain on my parade Cause I'm strapped from my blade To my grenade Repeat Hook Twice (Verse 3) My sweet Texas, restless Wantin' to ride Lexus Check this or flex this I get wreckless Unbelievable, lyrical, cynical Here we go, Mary-go-round, I down critical Street stamina, dammin' a cop Slammin' a punk And jammin' my Funk I'm the man with the skill, for real Guard my grill with steel On Sundays, I kneel On my knees to Jesus, please seize us Cause my boy's in trouble And he needs us Got a bat, my homie's on the double Punks want trouble I Bam Bam Rubble Still the son of a gun, havin' big fun Come and get some I leave you wet, mon Fill your lead with an infra red I put the best to bed, they call him Dead Fuckin' Fred Shed my skin like a snake on a vine Climbin' on the crime side, comin' around the blind side We fall in ranks like a motherfuckin' pyramid And I'm the top block, will I stop Never did Make it past the ninth grade But got life made Chose that dope, and I hope, I picked the right trade Repeat Hook Twice