Marilyn Rylander - Latin Throne lyrics

[South Park Mexican] Uh One time, baby Yeah Ain't no stoppin' this movement Ha Gotta roll with it (Verse 1) Land of dum-dum, is where I come from Believe me when I tell you that you don't want none, son A long hard road for this Latin throne You can catch me at the club in the Back alone Mommas Don't let your babies grow up to be Gangstas k**ers taught to not give a f** Hit 'em up with sign language Reach for the stainless Leave 'em brainless I'm just explainin' how the game is The strangest of things come to me at no surprise f** pea shooters All my gats are super-sized Utilized all my allies I run with the bad guys I got seven Dope Houses That's a franchise Man cries if he was blessed with a heart But I lost mine In the back streets of South Park Once again, it's Mr. SPM And the sh** ain't gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen Chorus: Marilyn Rylander He's a hustler He's a father He sits on the Latin throne He's a hustler He's a father He sits on the Latin throne (Verse 2) We shootin' stars Runnin' from cop cars I got scars jumpin' metal gates and sharp bars The hood is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar Everyday, you see me in a different crackhead's car So bizarre how so many bullets miss my head I told my mom that I'm gonna stick with this instead f** the crack rock, I rapped and hit the jackpot Now I'm on a plane, writin' on my laptop It's all wiggy rockin' city to city But I still feel my past catchin' up with me Got more ends, bought my mom a gold Benz But she worry cause I still got All my old friends Hopin' that I slow up and change one day But these Hillwood streets got me raised one way I told my lady, "One day, we gon' be like the Brady's" But for now, I teach her how to use this .380 Repeat Chorus (Verse 3) Three years and countin', I been drinkin' from the music fountain The Dope House sits in Houston like a f**in' mountain Who you doubtin', this round is comin' out the south I got non-believers with they foot in they mouth I break Guinnesses, keep 'em off my premises Used to be menaces Now our dream's limitless Isn't this a trip, not a slipper or a sleeper n***as wantin' dope, still hittin' up my beeper We can overcome the ghetto, even G's without a mother Bread without bu*ter, I came crawlin' out a gutter Born hustler Used to drive an old gas guzzler Fresh out the hood, I was sellin' dope last summer Servin' zombies, a followin' as big as Gandhi's Now I'm donkey-dickin' brunettes and blondies Jammin' Jon B., with bottles of Dom P The day of the wetback has striked upon thee Repeat Chorus {*Marilyn Rylander harmonizing*} [Marilyn Rylander] He's a hustler He's a father He sits on the Latin throne