Twenty-Eight South Park Mexican (Ft. Carolyn Rodriguez)

[Verse 1: SPM]
You lookin' up to Michaels, I'm looking up to psychos
Men who died young make up most of my idols
Head harder than a hammer, don't give a damn-a
Mind goes blank, then it clicks like a camera
Blame it on the fry
And I ain't finna fake it
Last night I got wet and ran around my hood naked
Thinking boys tryna kill me
Real niggas feel me
Back to backs sticks had me fried out for real G
SP, browner than a dirty penny
Got your whole clique screamin', "Who murdered Kenny?"
Purple bong hitter the stuff you on, shit but pull your heat
And I bet you, I'll respond quicker
The lost liquor, like Gilli and his boy Skipper
Pop the top, get to pourin' out some malt liquor
For my homies that I miss like a 3-Pointer
And won't rest till I get your enemies for you

[Chorus]
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
(Listen yo)
I don't want to die today, but I've got twenty-eight in my microwave
Everybody in the hood really like my yay'
Clear and uncut, got no time to play
(Listen yo)