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Correct Latin Throne Lyrics
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South Park Mexican
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Correct Latin Throne
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Latin throne [Verse:] 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 4 this Latin throne You can catch me at the club in the back alone Mamas don't let your babies grow up 2 be gangstas Killas taught 2 not give a fuck Hit 'em up with sign language Reach 4 tha stainless, Leave 'em brainless I'm just explainin' how the game is The strangest of things come 2 me at no surprise Fuck peashooters all my gats are superiszed Utilize all my allies, I run with the bad guys I got 7 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 Mr. Spm And this shit aint gonna stop until I'm dead or in the pen [chorus-2x] He's a hustla, He's a balla, He sits on the, Latin throne [verse2] We shootin' stars, runnin' from cop cars I got scars jumpin metal gates and sharp pars The hood is ours, save my pennies in a pickle jar Everyday you see me in a different crackhead's car So bizzare how so many bullets missed my head I told my mom that I'm gonna stick with this instead Fuck the crackrock, I rapped and hit the jackpot Now I'm on a plane writin' on my laptop It's all wiggy rockin' city 2 city But I still feel my past catchin' up with me Got mo' ends, bought my mom a gold Benz But she worried 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 old lady one day we gon' be like the Bradys But for now i'll teach you how 2 use this 380 [chorus-2x] [verse3] 3yrs and counting I been drinking from the music fountain The dopehouse sits in Houston like a fuckin mountian Who you doubtin', this browns comin' out the south I got 9 believers with they foot in they mouth I break guineses, Keep 'em off my premesis Used 2 be menaces, Now our dreams limitless Isn't this a trip, not a slipper or a sleeper Niggaz wantin dope still hittin' up my beeper We can overcome the ghetto, even g's without a mother Bread without butter I came crawling out a gutter Born hustla, used 2 drive an old gas guzzler Fresh out tha hood, I was sellin' dope last summer Servin' zombies all followin' as big as Ghandis Now I'm throwed diggin' brunettes and blondies Jammin Jon B with bottles of Don P The day of the wetback has striked upon thee [chorus-2x]
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