South Park Mexican - Latin Throne lyrics

(feat. Marilyn Rylander) [SPM] Uhh....one time baby, yeah Ain't no stoppin' this movement...gotta roll with it [First Verse (SPM):] 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 in the club in the, back alone So, Mama's don't let your babies grow to be gangstas k**as 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 supersized Utilized all my allies, I run with bad guys, I got seven dopehouses, that's a franchise Man cries if he was blessed with a heart, But I lost mine, in the backstreets of South Park Once again it's Mister 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 baller He sits on the Latin Throne He's a hustler He's a baller He sits on the Latin Throne [Second Verse (SPM):] 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 cuz 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 gone be like the Brady's But for now I teach her how to use this three eighty [Chorus] [Third Verse (SPM):] Three years and countin', I've been drinkin' from the music fountain The Dopehouse 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 guinesses, keep 'em off my premises, Used to be menaces, now our dreams limitless Isn't this a trip? Not a slipper or a sleeper, n***as wantin' dope still hittin' up my beeper But 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 following as big as Gandhi's, Now I'm donkey dickin' Brunettes and Blondies Jammin' Jon B., with bottles of Don P., The day of the Wetback has striked upon thee [Chorus]