This is a song about "Your mexican"

Karl malone called her a little mexican, but he never won a chip

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

The people scared of annihilation when kingdom come

Heaven forbid i commit these sins as a mexican.

Well, i have a gram cupcake mix

Fuck your bars, fuck your demons,

Your eyes it's my paradise, your

You ain't gotta worry no more

Sethered your spine, your movement lines

When i get my hands on nines

Blood stain, your slain, your brain

Lost in the rain