South Park Mexican — Hustle Town

[South Park Mexican] {*laughing*} Hustle Town, my city man Born and raised, baby Yo, I dedicate this jam to all the single mothers Raising men in a big city I know it's hard Let 'em know what's up, Filero Uh [Verse 1: Filero] I sell drugs with thugs, hittin' licks off tricks Workin' two jobs, a dope dealer and a pimp Mom beggin' me to stop Everyday So scared for me to walk Memory lane But mom, don't worry My tech protect well I told y'all one day this rap shit gone sell Cause my heart been broke from the start Since the day my father died when I was seven in the park So I wrote the book How to pimp hoes and kick doors And if I kill, well, that's just how that shit goes Pull your strap What am I supposed to sweat This the third time today that I come close to death Chorus: South Park Mexican Hustle Town, Hustle Town, the city of dreams Where we creep through the hood and we serve them dope fiends Hustle Town, the shit don't stop Roll rental cars and we keep the Glock cocked Hustle Town, the city of dreams Where we creep through the hood and we serve them dope fiends Hustle Town, the shit don't stop Roll rental cars and we keep the Glock cocked [Verse 2: South Park Mexican] Set 'em up, wet 'em up Etcetera Tell ya treasurer, "Empty the register" Shit's serious, I'll give your life a period Well here he is, it's the kid with experience Don't start shit Mistake me for an artist Flash in the dark, someone tell 'em where his heart is Blue light Who die? Tonight Maybe over two dice, maybe cause he blew fry On top of y'all with that Hillwood Mafia Hard hittin' hustlers Beat the drawers off of ya Knowledge While my shit be flawless Dope House Records Step into my office Repeat Chorus [Lord Loco] It's that boy Lord Loco, you know what I'm talkin' about (Yeah) Representin' that H-Town, with my boy SPM (H-Town, holmes) There's somethin' bout' a lot of frauds out there, you know what I'm sayin' (Man) So what you think 'bout them fraud ass niggas, Los? [Verse 3: South Park Mexican] You jackin' jaws I'm packin' balls Spark a spliff, I give more gifts than Santa Clause With a cold forty ounce and a sack of hay Chug a lug, for the thugs, who done passed away Mister Masterful, Mystical, Mexican Maniac Competition, you motherfuckers make me laugh {*laughing*} You'se a bitch if you hatin' on my Houston hits Fight devils like you with a crucifix Shoot this shit With a shotty, shake ya body Gun Kung Fu mixed with A.K. Karate I'm sorry But you the past like Atari As I smoke like Marley, stay Brown like Charlie Repeat Chorus