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Текст песни South Park Mexican f Marilyn Rylander - Land of the Lost

South Park Mexican f Marilyn Rylander - Land of the Lost слова песни

First Verse (SPM):He was the son of a dope man, what he saw was what he learnedHe left school, now it`s finally his turnTo rob and steal, but he feels he needs to stop and chillCuz deep in his heart he knows that God is realMama still tries, to open his eyesCuz the way a man lives is the way a man diesHis father`s doin` twenty-five to lifeCuz the love of money cuts like a knifeBlinding lights, he doesn`t know which way to goHis best friend just got killed two days agoHe writes his Dad the first letter that he ever wroteA little note, about how bad his heart was brokeBefore the mail, could even reach his jail cellThe boy was murdered at a neighborhood hotelSellin` wholesale, just like his pop taught himRock bottom, a muthafuckin` cop shot himChorus (Marilyn Rylander):We always will....Remember you...We always will...Have love for you...A taste of life....And now your gone...You found a life....In the Land of the Lost....Second Verse (SPM):They met when they was teenagers, around the tenth gradeShe fell in love, and now he wants to get paidHe convinced her to work at the buck nakedAnd everything she made dancing he would take itShe got a fake I.D., and a club licenseA second life, that she had to live in silenceAt seventeen, she got the strength to finally leave himThat`s when she met the demonIt was a cold murder, he made sure that he really hurt herOver dumb shit, but he had to take it furtherCircumstances that led to last dancesShe hit the canvas, now she at Saint FrancesSix o` clock services, feel the nervousnessOf having to look at death perfectlessI`m smokin` roaches burnin` the shit out my fingersRememberin` the words of the Church choir singersChorusThird Verse (SPM):Another Mexican gangbangerSet tripper, wig splitterA trigger happy ditch diggerItchy finger quick to blast upon a rivalVida loca, another word for suicidalSame color of skin, but different color ragsBrowns puttin` browns up in body bagsEvery two or three streets is a different cliqueThey got no love for themselves so they livin` sickFor centuries we been fillin` penitentariesIt`s plain to see, we`re our worst enemyThe smartest, most talented of the razaIs all dead or doin` time for a fuckin` TronzaGeniuses, all dyin` meaninglessCuz they can`t find a way to break free from thisNeedless to say, the gangsta that I speak ofG-Love, is layin` in a grave that he dugChorus (2x)

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