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

[South Park Mexican]
(Verse 1)
My homie called me in the morning from a hospital bed
He got
Holes in his body from a glock full of lead, he said
Three motherfuckers that his lady knows
Tried to jack his ass for his 84's
Now in a Ben Taub sick bed
My nigga lays up
He got sprayed up
Cause he wouldn't raise
Caught three out of seven of the shots that rang
Them folks sayin' that he'd never walk the same
It sounds like a job for the uzi gat
And where the fuck did your bitch say these fools be at
For a real long time, we been the best of friends
And I'll be damned if a nigga don't
Get revenge
I feel anger
That I'm no stranger to
Bustin' slugs in they guts, just a thang to do
Why they pray for you
Come and spray they crew
I got
Love for my homies, I thought you knew
He said
"Los, don't sweat it, let this shit
But with these punk motherfuckers, I must pick a bone
Now will it be the cranium or the chest plate
Necks break, back snap, put him in
Lead take me to vengeance, send this
Led this
Ripping through tendons, I end this
Because you bleed inside, and it hurts to cough
I can't
Take no advice, I gots to break 'em off

Chorus: South Park Mexican
Cause my revenge
It tastes so sweet, I gotta do
What my friends
Would do for me
You motherfuckers gotta
I'm askin' for action
A. the fuckin' K.
I'm blastin', some ass in

Repeat Chorus

(Verse 2)
My niggas check me, I'm thinking of a master plan
I'm straight up blastin' gats, them fuckin' bastards ran
I'm steady missin' all my homies who done bit
The dust
Got revenge cause them bitches wasn't shit
To us
Now what the fuck can I accomplish
And when I'm dead
Will I find myself on God's list
Every night I give
Thanks, I didn't die today, turnin' 'caine
Into crack, and my mic away
We dealin' cause we
Feelin' that the
Pay's right, hopin' momma never
See me at my
Grave site
No daylight, play night cautiously
Could be death, or my freedom, what is costin' me
Lost in jail life, my wife be that Mary Jane
And me streets got me strollin' Blueberry Lane
Very same song sung in the south
From the mouth of a hustler
Never have I trusted a
Trick or a hoe or a dope fiend either
Cause they smoke like a beaver, buildin' dams on the river
Live a
Life of a G til the D-A-Y
Hittin' switches on the freeway high
Don't reply cause me don't give a fuck
What you hoes got to say 'bout me Hillwood funk

Repeat Chorus Twice

(Verse 3)
Stop short in your tracks, gats got the place surrounded
Sounded two
Warning shots, fuck on up, and you'll be grounded
Pounded bodies with a bunch of twelve gauges
Now her face is too straight
In them fuckin' dog cages
Pages of my book
Turn like the wind blows
On the paper of a crook
Motherfuck, them hoes
Him rose as a hustler
Rose as a G
Saves his flows to big eight
Now he scores half a ki
Some said in his head, he got insanity inside
But all it really be is mathematically inclined, if behind
You might find others takin' over
Rookies movin' cookies, they whipped in baking soda
Baby know the fuckin' rules
My cheese
With my homies and we BALLIN' WITH A GLOCK
Tenderoni phony fraud motherfuckers
Best to get out the game
'Fore you die motherfuckers
Busters trust us, but us hustlers trust
No one
You can sure run with no gun, that be a nigga slow guns
So roll on the sweets
Chug-a-lug on the eightball
And see
Where this motherfuckin' life is gon' take y'all
The makers may

Repeat Chorus Twice