SOUTH PARK MEXICAN LYRICS
 Send "Real Gangsta" Ringtone to your Cell  
"Real Gangsta"
 [bad word] ]
 She don't know why
 But all she knows
 is that her youngest child
 is a real gangster now
 you see...

[Verse 1:]
 He was a good kid all through elementary
 A's and B's and had no enemies
 But he saw all the G's as he walked home
 he couldn't read all the words on the walls though
 So many letters crossed out with X's
 He wondered but knew not to ask those questions
 No pops, and his mom worked to the nail
 She managed to buy him some shoes on sale
 She didn't know, she bought the wrong color
 And they stayed in the closet all summer
 Even though the kid wasn't affiliated
 He knew what they loved, and knew what they hated
 Now he's in Middle School, same individual
 But this is where things seem to get a bit difficult
 This is the life of a young Mexican
 First verse done take me to the second one
 [bad word] x2]

[Verse 2:]
 6th grade, why so much homework
 Got a pot pie sitting in the stove burnt
 Momma still ain't back from her job yet
 So he eats it cause that's all he got left
 Then he plays with his little puppy Cinnamon
 His last dog was a victim of a hit [bad word]  There's a knock on his door it's his homeboy
 Your mom's gone? He pulls out a chrome toy
 Where'd you get that from? The kid asked
 We broke into a house we got a bunch of [bad word] stashed
 It was the first time he ever held a real gun
 To get one of these you gotta steal one
 We too young they won't let us buy a gat
 Now if they shoot at us we can fire back
 Who is they and why would they blast at me?
 Cause you from the hood fool, this is family
 [bad word] x2]

[Verse 3:]
 year passes now the kids [bad word] sag
 In his pocket got a knife and a nickel bag
 And the homeboy that showed him his first gun
 Got killed last week in a burban
 Putting work in 45 jerkin'
 Lucky shot hit, popped like a virgin
 Closed casket touched as he strolled past it
 Got his name tattooed on two hoes asses
 So he'll still be remembered often while
 His little [bad word] gettin' hit doggy style
 It ain't stoppin' now while his moms' on the ground
 On her knees yelling "Please Lord not my child
 I want to watch him smile
 He can turn his Pac up loud
 He can sleep with his pitbull on the couch"
 And while the kid is listening to her words
 All he can think about is bloody, bloody murders
 [bad word] x2] 

Thanks to emir arteaga for adding these lyrics.
Thanks to Edmundo Martinez for correcting these lyrics.