Lyrics Red Beams and Rice (feat. Juan Gotti) - South Park Mexican feat. Juan Gotti

Stop at the store make my bitch pump the gas
And when we get home bitch you fittin' to cut my grass
In my cutlass, 1982
My baby mama tell me Los, I ain't afraid of you
Fuck you durin' 15 percent of all my skriller
Man that's the mother of my children I can't kill her
So I break bread and proceed to get head
From a blonde bitch but her pussy hair red
Strawberry patch got my back scratched up
These other niggas rappin' but they can't catch up
I'm blessed by the lord, Trinity keybord
Peace to Filero representng Freeport
I'm a rock the casper, cold as Alaska
I'm sipping on a twoza and a 12 ounce shasta
Docha Cabanna on my Nana Republic

I keep my shit rugged cause the real niggas love it
What's the rock cooking? Nah I'm cookin' rock
Got my bitch workin' at the butt naked spot
I'm a bunny hop my new drop out the shop
Peace to Big Chief from the what, Rap-A-Lot
I'm a hoggin' dog while I creep in the fog
Pull out my dick and tell my bitch I need a job
If you want service, I'm at one eight hundred Murders
Flippin' chickens while you niggas flippin' cheeseburgers
I'm sippin' on Durbas, wetter than some surfers

Man I'm so bad I should join the fuckin' circus
Snatchin' hoes purses, hope my luck reverses
I'ma take the 2 piece with the biscuit from Churches
No way the churches could ever clean my paper
Tell my mom I love her, tell my dad I don't hate you
Soy Carlos Coy ese vato es bien loco
17 ki's & started off with 1 ocho

We kick in doors, we robbin' stores
Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life
Packin' beams, destroyin' dreams
Sag dicky jeans, we make them see the light
In studios, with mafios, fuck jazzy hoes
It just don't ever stop, so industry, prepare for me
That double C, my nuts is all I got

I walk in the club niggas stare at me
Bitch you got something you want to share with me
Can't we just all live marely?
Muthafuckers just wishin' they could burry me
I pull my quete, mom say I'm just like my jefe
Creepin' my carrucha, bangin' screw
Tropa F, soy el S P M for my jente
They want me on the billboard to say got leche
Remember me from Reveille, X bitch was barely
Everytime a nigga got shot cops questioned me
Teenage murderer, gat named Ursla
Chunked her & the baker she the bitch they searchin' for

Rollin' out the hood, I came from the impossible
Up a long gonna make it to a Conoco
And if I did, what makes you think I'd have the dough
Hollerin' like that, is makin' me unstoppable
I'ma drop a fool & let him feel these things
Ghetto vero pack a fero show you who I am
I'ma make a change, didn't show the game
Want to know my name and you heard of me
I don't love a bitch and muthafuck a hoe
Work at Stop-&-Go, cool like an eskimo
Down to shovels, no and blizzard blind the game
No more dyin' this pusher just can't be in vein
I'm a see it, believe it we gone beat this man
In the streets of game, this shit can't stay the same
Steadily prayin' man, this hito spread the wealth

Be sell wanito, dope will sell itself

We kick in doors, we robbin' stores

Creep 64's, welcome to gangsta life
Packin' beams, destroyin' dreams
Sag dicky jeans, we make them see the light
In studios, with mafios, fuck jazzy hoes
It just don't ever stop, industry, prepare for me
It's double C, my nuts is all I got

That's all I got in this, dirty, dirty fuckin' game
Uh, slangin' cocaine, uh and pack my little thing, uh
I got a nice aim, uh, it's about money, fuck fame
It ain't no shame, I'm a come down sun or rain
S.P. muthafuckin' mexicano, actin' bad one throwed vato
From H-Town to Colorado, uh, that's my mato
I rock hoes, I rock shows, I pop foes. What's the deal?
We in this bitch freestylin', Ha Ha Ha