People South Park Mexican

[Verse 1:]
I put dro in gars, put coke in jars
Gotta stay on my toes so I don't do bars
I sip syrup, but if I get sleepy
I put my jewelry in my pocket and I head to my teepee
Got money and power, not a barker or growler
In the game with no ref, but will bury a fouler
Moonlight howler, in a new white Prowler
South Park freestyler, not a police dialer
Make more bread than a deli, burn rubber in belly
Nigga might put it in a peanut butter and jelly
And I get so much head up in H-Town nightclubs
I guess I can honestly say that life sucks
Crib was a mil, that's what it costed
My girl from London called me a cheating bastard
No more broke mon, now Los so strong
The world show me more fuckin love than a slow song

[Chorus:]
People always ask the same question
Los why always so high?
If you only knew how I'm stressing
You would surely understand why

[Verse 2:]
I meet a fan and be trippin how they squeeze my hand
I remember chuggin Busch and I'd keep the can
Houston bum, all I had was a stupid gun
And 7 black trash bags of aluminum
In the club I be tryna dance
But I look like my gramps when he fell in the plants
And my abuela didn't think it was funny
I was tryna hold my laugh down deep in my tummy (haha)
My whole family get drunk and crunk
Then wake up in the morning like "What the fuck?"
Eyes bloodshot, head hurtin, and what not
2 hours later, shootin' pool at the thug spot
25 dudes and about 9 chicks
And they wonder why we always fightin and shit
I blast you Romans, like the boy Yosemite
Just step if you wanna test my authenticity ahhh