This Mexican (American) Life

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