Boys On Da Cut lyrics

[South Park Mexican]
(Verse 1)
I woke up quick
At around two
Jump in my Benz and pick up DJ Screw
Boys out there
Makin' them tapes
Separate the real n*ggas from the fakes
My boy just got out
Did a flat ten
And he just can't stop talkin' 'bout that pen
My best friend
But time destroys all men
Now he don't give a f*ck about goin' again
It ain't all good, but I ain't missin' no money
I'm just a thug motherf*ck, and you can't take nothin' from me
Somebody once said they wanna see me dead
The next week, they found the boy with two holes in his head
I break bread with my killers in the H-TX
It's the SP-Mex
In the all black stretch
Known for my purity, pride, and security
A house costs as much as one piece of my jewelry

Chorus: South Park Mexican
Cause the boys on the cut don't give a f*ck
You come talkin' that sh*t
Your eyes get shut
Boys out there, slangin' that yay
Only pus*y motherf*ckers say that crime don't pay
(Verse 2)
The time has come
And the day is here
2001
Is my motherf*ckin' year
I come from the head, it's the boy named Los
The one that got everybody on they toes
Straight up
And still, I sell dope for a livin'
In the form of a compact disc
f*ck prison
No more savin' cans
No more collectin' pennies
I'll have your f*ckin' clique hollin' "Who killed Kenny?"
With my gangsta b*tch
That, I just met
She ridin' my di*k, chuckin' up her set
I dance with the wolves
This is for my hood
Got the whole World fiendin' for the dope I cut

Repeat Chorus Twice

Hook: Ayana M
Fire
We on fire
We ain't gone stop
Droppin' these bombs
Fire
We on fire
We ain't gone stop
Droppin' these bombs
(Verse 3)
I was twelve years old
When I did my first jack
And I don't think that b*tch ever got her purse back
With fifteen rocks
I bought my first car
Cooked my first batch of dope in a pickle jar
It's like uno, dos, tres, young Happy Perez
Got me sellin' this dope to anyone on two legs
Boys talkin' down, but I give two f*cks
Step in my face
I put you in an all black tux
Layin' in a casket
Hard as a rock
My lead
Hit ya head and make it snap, crackle and pop
Now, how many times do I have to tell ya
All my life, I've been called a failure
My freestyle flow
Is so untouchable
I just got out the county jail two months ago
Now I'm in the studio
Just like Julio
In the city where them b*tches never won a Super Bowl
Man, I can't stop, I'm a keep on droppin'
Seven of my b*tches at the same mall shoppin'
At the galleria
Tell me, have you seen her
I f*ck a country singer and a Houston ballerina
Plus a fine ass China
I used to be a dreamer
Now I bought my mom and dad a navigator and a beamer
Leave a mark in this game
Aztec Indian
I don't give a f*ck cause every month I make a million
Repeat Hook