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Artist: South Park Mexican f/ Marilyn Rylander
Album:  3rd Wish: To Rock The World
Song:   Land of the Lost
Typed by:,

[South Park Mexican]

(Verse 1)
He was the son of a dope man, what he saw was what he learned
He left school, now it's finally his turn
To rob and steal, but he feels he needs to stop and chill
Cause deep in his heart, he knows that God is real
Momma still tries
To open his eyes
Cause the way a man lives is the way a man dies
His father's doin' 25 to life
Cause the love of money cuts like a knife
Blinding lights
He doesn't know which way to go
His best friend just got killed two days ago
He writes his dad the first letter that he ever wrote
A little note
About how bad his heart was broke
Before the mail
Could even reach his jail cell
The boy was murdered at a neighborhood hotel
Sellin' wholesale, just like his pop taught him
Rock bottom
A motherfuckin' cop shot him

Chorus: Marilyn Rylander
We always will
Remember you
We always will
Have love for you
A taste of life
And now your gone
You found a life
In the land of the lost

(Verse 2)
They met when they was teenagers
Around the tenth grade
She fell in love
And now he wants to get paid
He convinced her to work at the buck naked
And everything she made dancin', he would take it
She got a fake I.D.
And a club license
A second life
That she had to live in silence
At seventeen
She got the strength to finally leave him
That's when she met the demon
It was a cold murder
He made sure that he really hurt her
Over dumb shit, but he had to take it further
Circumstances that led to last dances
She hit the canvas
Now she at Saint Frances
Six o' clock services
Feel the nervousness
Of havin' to look at death perfectness
I'm smokin' roaches burnin' the shit out my fingers
Rememberin' the words of the church choir singers

Repeat Chorus

(Verse 3)
Another Mexican gangbanger
Set tripper
Wig splitter
A trigger happy ditch digger
Itchy finger quick to blast upon a rival
Vida loca, another word for suicidal
Same color of skin, but different colored rags
Browns puttin' browns up in body bags
Every two or three streets is a different clique
They got no love for themselves, so they livin' sick
For centuries, we've been fillin' penitentaries
It's plain to see
We're our worst enemy
The smartest, most talented of the raza
Is all dead or doin' time for a fuckin' tranza
Geniuses, all dyin' meaningless
Cause they can't find a way to break free from this
Needless to say
The gangsta that I speak of
Is layin' in a grave that he dug

Repeat Chorus Twice