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Artist: South Park Mexican
Album:  Hillwood
Song:   Hillwood
Typed by:,

[South Park Mexican]
(Verse 1)
The year is '70
October the fifth
I done did my nine months, now my life take a shift
In the free world now
You better raised me good
But instead, I blaze in the crazy hood
I was three when my pops took a long vacation
Now I'm solo
Facin' the revelation
Gotta bolo
For a dope fiend to hit
And I show no fee if you want some shit
I'm high as the sky
Fishin' for fry
Be a G til the D-A-Y I die
Oh my
Would you ever test
This Mex in a Lex, just bangin' out of Texas
You know I'm gonna wreck this shit
Along with any other bitch who disrespect my clique
Like a bit
I got the heart of a killer
And them hoes come out like a three wheeler
Cause I freaks my 'draulics, fuckin' hoes in college
Bitches swingin' on my nuts, it's so stylish
Model it
On my dick like a six-four
Peace to all my baby's mamas
Really, though
I'm a damn fool, and G's can vouch that
Up in the ghetto, puttin' cheese on a mouse trap
But one day, I'm gonna rise
And come up
Til then, I'm dealin' dope from sundown
To sun up

Chorus: South Park Mexican
"On the hills of Hillwood, Texas"
"On the hills of Hillwood, Texas"
"On the hills of Hillwood, Texas"
"You best not test this mex in a Lex"

(Verse 2)
As I crept through my hood, it felt good, all my homies
Have my back, with a gat in Hillwood, hustlin'
Is the hobby
Brothers, if you will
And all of those hoes
Really love us on the Hill
Be real
If your blood runs deep in the hood, all that could've, should've
Would've put a bunk in the wood, all stood
All good
Keep they fuckin' bank if I take
What you got, with my glock, I be great
You hate the way
G's comin' up, with a mic
I write
What you like, it's my motherfuckin' life
I never shive, not the type
Indeed, I am
But if they tryin', to take my ends
I be damn
Bam bam to that man in the pen, older boys too
Young to get stung, come with the holy boys
Hold the noise, I show boys to precise to
Fend from the skunk, in my blunt, to be nice, shoot
Dice, hit killer, swig a motherfuckin' eightball
Pour a little for the ones
Who took that great fall
Cause I keeps all my dead homies in my heart
They got a head start
And still we never part

Repeat Chorus

(Verse 3)
I remember December of '88
Blue boys hit the cut, was too late to break
Had to swallow three stones, tossed my chrome in the bushes
Seven dirty pigs, jackin' up three bushes
My homie caught a case, tryin' to race the van
Got scooped and fin to face the man
In the black gown with the wooden hammer
Give my nigga seven in the slammer
Damn, a
Old motherfucker passin' time
All my frends gone, guess I'm last in line
Better find me a new way to hustle
Six years in the game, and I still feel the struggle
Weed across the checkpoint
Just another day
On the job, as I mob, but the pigs oink
Smoke a joint on the way to the valley
Now I'm comin' back and they wanna search my Cadi'
It's a risk when you tryin' to make that fast bank
But them mutts can't smell past my gas tank
So I catch 59 back to H-Town
Arrive safely with my thrity eight pounds
Fresh from the border
May I take your order 
You just want a single, that be five and a quarter

Repeat Chorus

[South Park Mexican]
Never will I be a fraud
So true to the game, fool
So slick