coppers flying through the door Well, Sally Sue, she bought it but everybody's gotta go So I figured it be best if I skipped down to Mexico Tequila
me She comforts me when the candles blown out The cake has grown mold but the memories are sweet The laughter's all gone but the memories are mine The Mexican
liquor store turned out the lights, left the motor runnin? opened up the door, I flashed a grin and said, Jack this is gonna be a piece of cake, later
way up in the cut like maw and paw When he come out he dumb out There he go! The villian with the illest flow in all of mexico All foes on some when
? She comforts me when the candles blow out The cake has grown mold but the memories are sweet The laughter's all all gone but the memories are mine The mexican
'all is, bringing my fingerprints Up in them cameras and shit like I fucked a singing bitch out Ask her if she seen my face Right: Look- I was out of town getting cake
store turned out the lights, left the motor runnin? opened up the door, I flashed a grin and said, Jack this is gonna be a piece of cake, later tonight
Sit out under a Willow tree an' think. Head south: are you listenin'? You don't know what you're missin'. From Virgina shores to the Gulf of Mexico.
behind sit out under a willow tree and think Head south, are you listening you don't know what you're missing from Virginia shores to the Gulf of Mexico
city of dope Got the shit channeled, with the chickens under the boat Don't get me wrong, some fly and some float My nigga in Rico, from the Gulf of Mexico
m going on my paper run, a week at the Days Inn Icing on my fingertips, I be getting cake in [Chorus: T-Streets] I be getting cake then Watching for
world for me to feed on Double deck yacht, docked Boss, blowing weed up Revenue incredible, it put me on a pedestal Columbia to Mexico, I figure there
buy herself some clothes, and she brought me back a chopper, see niggas tryna kick it, but no I don't play sucka, I'm all about my cake I'm tryna marry
: duet with Jimmy Buffett (Jimmy Buffett) Nibblin' on sponge cake Watchin' the sun bake All of those tourists covered in oil Strummin' my six-string
hot guns I'm on a beach in L.A. fuckin fly misses While you niggas at the crib tryna' find misses Yo I'm gettin head from the Mexican dime bitches Them
gave me coffee and tortillas to console my head, prepared the slippers on my feet before she made our bed, and blew the candles, from my favorite cake