Our shits as greasy as Hispanic stereotypes on American TV. At home eating Twinkies when we should be eating Wheaties. Queasy, sleazy big hearted cabrons giving you the scoop; Frito-Lay chips with the guacamole dip, pierced clits, full clips of fresh shit. You’re moving with Anita and her guapo Juan Perez. You’re moving with Anita and her guapo Juan Perez.

Graduate to anal sex in a cantina, over tequila, with Maria. She squealed like a pig: her 5 kids ran and hid. Smoked a cig, you know we done jizzed. Poppy no mas. You got to stop. More cholo than Pedro, your chica’s snorting yea-yo. She yells hey-ho, for the pesos, then stole your wallet in El Segundo. Gringo you got hoed and left with no green card. We see how you act at the bars when you’re drunk on PBRs. Hop in our car. We’ll take you to Mars and spit hot bars real hard in your ear lobes. Vote Los Gatos, Chino’s on Paco, not nacho filled potholes. Cuba Libres to wash it all down; find us shaping sound with cotton mouth 6 blocks from down town, 399 Sherman bound.

40’s while we poop, a dirty Sanchez too. Triple loop de loops 2 litter scoops of metapuke. A rough fast world got our pubes curled, so we rip Cheech and Chong bong hits while jail bates yell rape. We say wait! Got the kitty porn tapes on the sneak tip at Freaknik in the back of Dre’s the beatniks jeep quick; that’s how slick and fit we is. Saying there’s a snuke in our snizz. Chico and the man grew dreads, then walked through the mall. Like Jay and silent Bob, but we both like to talk a lot. Hang out with sluts and Snapchat our skid marked hearts. Either too soft or we care too much. On Christian Mingle.com catch us swapping cock shots with your mom. Damn right we were raised on MTV. Slim Shady’s babies, with rabies, covered in biscuits and gravy. You’re doing the Macarena that you sold to Juan Valdez? You’re doing the Macarena that you sold to Juan Valdez.

Uno, dos, tres to the four, Mahorny, Teenwolf coked up Doc Martin’s at your door. 40’s uncouth Ruffies on the roof, chopped and screwed for you. Long on the tooth listening to Ice Cube. We’re not saying cops ain’t cool, but neither was school. Who are we to tell you what to do? 40’s on the stoop let us dumb it down for you. One in each hand so that equals out to 2. Shorties on the stoop, 120 proof, we’re Bon Fire Nation and we’re coming for you.