South Park Mexican — Ghetto Tales

[South Park Mexican] SPM, baby (Phat Money Records) Puttin' it down with that Phat Money Records (Dope House Records) Phat Stacks (A.C. Chill, L.T.) This one's Ghetto Tales What you know about that Chorus: South Park Mexican These are the tales, the Ghetto Tales Dope sales and life is hell Tryin' to stay out of jail These are the tales, the Ghetto Tales Dope sales and life is hell Tryin' to stay out of jail [Verse 1: A.C. Chill] I'm rollin' H-town, South Park back streets A.C. Chill, all the O.G.'s know me In the 'Burban with the candy paint, four deep Most of my niggas ain't got no car, that's why we so deep We left a funeral, to see my homie's momma cry It always hurt me When any of my homies die All of a sudden Gun shots rang out I guess these young G's plexin' gang bang clout We pulled over, I said, "Let me out this bitch, mayne" One of these niggas fin to get they wig split, mayne Pulled out my strap You know how the show goes Somebody yelled out, "Hey yo, here come the po-pos" I told my niggas "Yo man, I'll catch you later" Got a pocket full of weed, plus they got me on paper Bailed around the corner To holla at my homie Next thing you know, the fuckin' haters roll up on me Damn, how much hating can a young nigga take First chance I get, a motherfucker fin to break They caught me Now I'm in the jail cell pacin' Damn, a violation, eighteen months is what I'm facin' Repeat Chorus [Verse 2: L.T.] I'm pushin' weight, tryin' to have it, everything is flat But at the same time, I'm leaving niggas on they back Up in the neighborhood, I'm tryin' to stack a little cream I'm paper chasin', me and T, we tryin' to stack some green And everything is far as bad when it comes to drama I'm tryin' to make a little cash for Me, Jay, and momma Ain't payin' no bills, but these niggas got me fucked up I rather sit on streets than see my ass locked up And servin' fiends is an everyday life thang And from the cells chillin', tryin' to have a nice day And for this 4:20 East Tex life thang I got the skills to hit a nigga from Big Mar, mayne And platinum shit We gon' drop, on the block of D Come watch my tongue twist, wreckin' with my boy C Tryin' to survive, make a meal with the ghetto dream We player made, plus we from the heart of S.E Repeat Chorus [Verse 3: South Park Mexican] SPM baby sittin' dope fiends at the dead end Fightin' over sales with my motherfuckin' best friend Used to be broke and assed out Now I buy diamonds To make my wife pass out, bad route Was a path I chose, blastin' hoes At last, I rose, I got cash and clothes From the crack I sold, to let you bastards know Stackin' dough Sittin' on glass and Vogues My ass gon' show I'm a straight out the slums South Park, where you get your car washed for crumbs But these laws is on a cookout, I ain't to get took out Three dollar pieces for my look out Licensed cookie baker That's my profession Never have my dope in my own, possession Niggas sellin' cocaine in my domain I sneak up from the back and take you out, with no pain Repeat Chorus