[South Park Mexican:]
What's the deal man? We back in this camp, man.
I'm doin' this right here off a shot of coffee my boy Flaco gave me. You heard?
Crease in my pants as I dance with the devil
I used to ride a bike that only had 1 pedal
No Nike kicks, broke than a bitch
I started comin' up sellin' fat ass nicks
I'm gonna flip it like a script at the [...] unit
That's my new spot, 8 by 10 cubic
Nah, I ain't stupid, I never have been
They locked up they [...] now they all laughin'
Celebratin' life with they kids & they wife's
They wishin' I would die as my little girl cries
I Always knew that these hoes would be comin' for me
But my comeback's gon' be somethin' to see
I can't stand a hoe, on a TV show
That say I'm hispanic, or I'm Latino
Bitch you a Mexican, say that shit.
Why the fuck is you actin' scared to represent?
[Chorus:]
Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo & my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote. [x2]
[Rasheed:]
Mr. SP can you spare a few pages
To write what's on my mind & record a few tape &'s
It's the Rasheed creepin' in my Batman boat
My money triple like the chin on a fatman throat
But haters could they hate your voice I was kind of bored
You know I always be the Dope House spinal cord
I just been chillin' showin' boys how to wreck screw tapes
& also how a haters body fits in one suitcase.
[South Park Mexican:]
I told you once, I eat you muthafuckers for lunch
I pull more stunts than Knievel, bring it in by the tons
I got guns, homey I got guns
I heard you had some heat too, but not much
I'm the pusher, run 'em like Alaskan huskys
& still smoke the finest, right by the trust SKS
Bring it to your chest
You should know by now, I don't aim for the legs.
[Chorus:]
Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo & my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote. [x2]
[South Park Mexican:]
Everybody gather round the fire, blow like a dryer
I'm gonna run a little somethin' by you
In the battlefield is nothin' like you've ever known
Soy el pelon de Houston con fe y corazon
Estereo, en serio, Houston hasta Mexico
Cortalo, vendelo, SPM dejalo
Vato es maton, con su homey Low G. Flores
Juan Gotti bring dolores y casa's de millones
Y Fiero, en este juego, necesitas huevos
Mi treinta y ocho, you no te quiero
Puro AK-cuarenta-siete, you vete
Tu vas pa tras y dile que te respete
Cuando sales tengo jales en muchas partes
Te doy coca y cuetes que son cuates
Como mi ruka, maria juana, no hay otra
Fumando me llamo Rolando Mota.
[Chorus:]
Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo & my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.
Every time the wind blows I reach for my heat.
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.
& these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.