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SOUTH PARK MEXICAN : Garza West lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

SOUTH PARK MEXICAN lyrics : "Garza West"

(feat. Juan Gotti)

[Verse 1: SPM]

From the hood and I stood on them Houston streets
We stick together like Cuban's links
I had a nine on my waist, guns I straddle

Forty four at the crib with the ivory handle
I'm the rocker, Beatty Crocker
Cooking cookies and cakes

B-12 to blow it up, as my [email protected]%!e inflates
I'm a swang'a, Gucci on my hang'a
Just brought my cousin on the ranch a Ford Wrangler

I like to ride horses like Mustangs and Porches
Pain is my producer, leader of the dark forces
Striking like matches, dropping like ashes

I only buy dances, if they paying college classes
Mother$#&@er


[Chorus:]
I'm wreckin' for my G's in Garza West
I'm wreckin' for my G's in Garza East

I'm wreckin' for my G's in T.D.C
As I ball in this penitentiary


I'm wreckin' for my G's in Garza West
I'm wreckin' for my G's in Garza East
I'm wreckin' for my G's in T.D.C

As I ball in this penitentiary

[Verse 2: Juan Gotti]

Mi esposa won't listen, keeps comin' up missing
Feliz navidad aqui en transfer states prison
No visits, no kisses, no of the same (*##$es

No mas on T.V, magazine, and in wishes
I work on the hoes, what? Living C-dorm
Life with a fo-five got me this job

Mix bread with my foo's, Ese, Locos, and Tontos
Everyday tensions, fights for the tubo
House regulation, dropping Cantones

Bosses talk %#@!, cause I draw on my sobre
Traded my corn bread dessert over juice
Fight a pro, bull%#@!! that ain't no food

As a foo on the cool, parole set me off guey
Four years for sho' without no release date
You vatos don't feel me, you live in the free

As I ball through this penitentiary

[Chorus x2]


[Verse 3: SPM]
Swisha Sweet rollin', pockets still swollen

Might meet a (*##$ and take her fine $$# bowlin'
Money of the colon, Benz ain't stolen
Might watch Tiger Woods at the Houston Open

And I got hoes, even one that's Aryan
Slagin' more white balls than the Nolan Ryan
Nine with the silence, might turn to violence

This for all my pipe toting crack smoking clients
And my grass is much greener, South Park Beaner
Puttin' dick to a real famous R&B singer

Blowing like a tuba, wet like a scuba
Kandy coated Cougar, I'm a balla and hoop'a
Hater heart break'a , bloody shirt stain'a

Jumping on my diving board, faint to do a gain'a
Blades on my Benz, tons of fake friends
Spray down my sits with the cherry fragrance

Mother$#&@er

[Chorus x2]

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