This Mexican (American) Life - Speak

I would like to

Welcome everybody to

Another episode of

A man and his plants

Strike up the band (Yeah)

Smack up your man (Yeah)

Stack up the bands, all glory to God (God?)

All glory to me (Yeah)

Bitch, I ain’t Chance, a man and his plants

Corduroy pants

Now I’m so grown

I was so sick of American livin', I pack up my shit, disappear and I’m gone

I assassin down that avenue, thinkin' revenue

Fingernails filthy from that cocaine residue

Who am I supposed to be?

What am I supposed to do?

If you came up in that murder murder, you would feel me too

Bulletproof vest when I ride (Ride)

Long dark hair, brown eyes (Eyes)

And the bullshit I survived

Made me so cold inside

So I turn up the heat and start bustin'

A Pisces, I’m sent to the thuggin' (Yeah)

And you can’t back up all the shit that you talk

But I can, you bitches not nothin', yeah

So bring in the horns, the Devil reborn

I was broken and torn, in love with the porn

In love with the flesh, I look good in the mesh

And leather and lace, groove with the murderin' pace

Ending the early debates like Future who movin' the bass

Smokin' these crates, I did it with gentleman’s grace

Give me the space to grow

Lettin' you know that I’m in the zone

Oh, you stackin' some bread like it’s Jenga?

Now I’m a latin pop singer (Yeah)

My girl and my attitude meaner, huh

Had to switch up my demeanor, two facin' like Harvey Dent

You bent out of shape, I came out the gate with a rage

All I be seein' these days, I’ve psychiced empires with blood on their hands

and their fangs, look

If you — think you — drainin' - me of — energy, you not

I got — silver — bullets — loaded — up

Every — liquid — shot, yeah

Windows so big in my crib, my hope feel like a solar flare

My aura beams are gold, I swear, stashed the drugs in tupperware

Dancin' in the underwear, then bowin' some reggaeton

Used to drink the wine alone in my solitary zone

No Nirvana, a latin americana, got a thing for speaking spanglish,

pero no entiendes nada

Why even bother?

Communication just killed us now

They used to sleep on us, but oh, they feel us now

I need to feel you now

Need to feel you now

Need to feel you now

Strike up the band (Yeah)

Smack up your man (Yeah)

Stack up the bands, all glory to God (God?)

All glory to me (Yeah)

Bitch, I ain’t Chance, a man and his plants

Corduroy pants

Now I’m so grown

I was so sick of American livin', I pack up my shit, just appear and I’m gone