South Park Mexican

Текст песни These Streets

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South Park Mexican - Текст песни These Streets

[South Park Mexican:]
Sunshine in the wind with the bald fade
Gotta keep my dream down 'cause them laws hate
Out the roof deuce chunkin' 45 dunkin'
H-Town is just like Compton kick doors
Telescope hit folds make you boys sound softer than wet dough
Stack dollars went to crack college I like my salad with extra black olives
Acknowledge keep my lac polished
Don't mistake me for a fuckin' rap artist
I'm the one that shot slugs in your hot tub
Leave your bitch ass screwed & chopped up
None left known for car theft
But in the kitchen I'm the one top chef I cool whip it
I ain't bull shitin' turn 25oz to a new chicken.

[Chorus:]
Smoke bud 'cause it's my therapy
Take a .44 slug, turn that bitch to a memory
Can't show no love
'Cause these hoes greed jealousy
So run them thugs
These Streets keep callin' me.

[Rasheed:]
Let the bombs fly nigga we can all die
But wait a second first I gotta tell my mom bye
Maybe we can talk it out up in god's sky
Rasheed got more nuts than pecan pie.
I'm the wrong guy homey I don't fuck around
I've been a gangsta since way before Hustle Town
SP Low G ain't no hoe in' us
I don't eat alot of sweets but I smoke a bunch
You can go to lunch & nigga you can go to hell
Fuck the radio this shit is still gonna sell
Like I told my bitch if I'm ever killed, you'll never find another muthafucker more realSouth Park Mexican - These Streets - http://ru.motolyrics.com/south-park-mexican/these-streets-lyrics.html
But say Los maybe we can get some airplay & talk about some of that bullshit that they say.
All the ladies in the house say "[ohhhhh]"
Damn I forgot I'm in this bitch all alone.

[Chorus:]
Smoke bud 'cause it's my therapy
Take a .44 slug, turn that bitch to a memory
Can't show no love
'Cause these hoes greed jealousy
So run them thugs
These Streets keep callin' me.

[South Park Mexican:]
Los is a crawler, House-ton got taller
Up in H-Town move slow like koala
20's on the prowler starin' at the mirror
17 coats to make the paint clearer.
Up in my ride got more nuts than my pride
Keep a few hoes that I fuck on the side.
Paper chase me crib on the laker, ride through the trey, sfree wheel skater.
Breaker 1-9 shin' in the sunshine my Nextel phone sound like the love line
All day service got Jane burnin' my weed is lime green like frog named Kermit
Bustin' fuck the reprocaution
Blast him right before the radio lunch in, bloody murder
Not much of a converser
'Cause I say more bad words than a computer cursor.

[Chorus:]
Smoke bud 'cause it's my therapy
Take a .44 slug, turn that bitch to a memory
Can't show no love
'Cause these hoes greed jealousy
So run them thugs
These Streets keep callin' me.

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Тексты песен альбома "The Last Chair Violinist"

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