Lyrics:

South Park Mexican:
What's the deal man? We back in this camp, man.
I'm doin' this right here off a shot of coffee my boy Flaco gave me. You heard?

Crease in my pants as I dance with the devil
I used to ride a bike that only had 1 pedal
No Nike kicks, broke than a bitch
I started comin' up sellin' fat ass nicks
I'm gonna flip it like a script at the [...] unit
That's my new spot, 8 by 10 cubic
Nah, I ain't stupid, I never have been
They locked up they [...] now they all laughin'
Celebratin' life with they kids and they wife's
They wishin' I would die as my little girl cries
I Always knew that these hoes would be comin' for me
But my comeback's gon' be somethin' to see
I can't stand a hoe, on a TV show
That say I'm hispanic, or I'm Latino
Bitch you a Mexican, say that shit.
Why the fuck is you actin' scared to represent?

Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo and my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote. [x2]

Rasheed:
Mr. SP can you spare a few pages
To write what's on my mind and record a few tape &'s
It's the Rasheed creepin' in my Batman boat
My money triple like the chin on a fatman throat
But haters could they hate your voice I was kind of bored
You know I always be the Dope House spinal cord
I just been chillin' showin' boys how to wreck screw tapes
And also how a haters body fits in one suitcase.

South Park Mexican:
I told you once, I eat you muthafuckers for lunch
I pull more stunts than Knievel, bring it in by the tons
I got guns, homey I got guns
I heard you had some heat too, but not much
I'm the pusher, run 'em like Alaskan huskys
And still smoke the finest, right by the trust SKS
Bring it to your chest
You should know by now, I don't aim for the legs.

Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo and my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote. [x2]

South Park Mexican:
Everybody gather round the fire, blow like a dryer
I'm gonna run a little somethin' by you
In the battlefield is nothin' like you've ever known
Soy el pelon de Houston con fe y corazon
Estereo, en serio, Houston hasta Mexico
Cortalo, vendelo, SPM dejalo
Vato es maton, con su homey Low G. Flores
Juan Gotti bring dolores y casa's de millones
Y Fiero, en este juego, necesitas huevos
Mi treinta y ocho, you no te quiero
Puro AK-cuarenta-siete, you vete
Tu vas pa tras y dile que te respete
Cuando sales tengo jales en muchas partes
Te doy coca y cuetes que son cuates
Como mi ruka, maria juana, no hay otra
Fumando me llamo Rolando Mota.

Everytime the wind blows I reach for my heat
Peace to Sambo and my homey Pistol Pete
I'm from the South East but got love for the North
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.

Every time the wind blows I reach for my heat.
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.
And these are just the Diaries that SPM wrote.