Illegal Aliens Songtext
von Convicts

Fuck all of you motherfuckin wetbacks
Cause you′re one of the main reasons some niggas get set back
Like for instance, me, an ex-convict
Wetbacks worth for less, so they come with that fuck shit
It ain't just my record that′s keepin me stuck
Thanks to the wetbacks I can't get high on a trash truck
Now they cappin and braggin

Ridin thirty motherfuckers in a beat up ass station wagon

Or either a raggedy-ass Regal
Ridin like a bitch, knowin they illegal
Drivin like they ass can't see
But I wish one of them motherfuckers would wreck me
Some walk like hell, buildin endurance
Others ride like the law, with no goddamn insurance
Goddamn, I hate em G


And here′s a message for you hoes, you don′t say shit to me
Cause far as I see, I wouldn't let it pass
Straight up, I′mma whoop the shit out they ass
And up shit creek, I be sellin em
Me and Mike hate the shit out them goddamn illegal aliens

Yo c'mon 3-2 man, let′s go on a break before this
Motherfuckin Jap come out here talkin that shit
I got a headache and I don't feel like hearin
All that motherfuckin shit, y′knahmsayin?

I'm sick of these goddamn Japs and Iranians
I'm mad as hell, I wanna throw up these things again
And go buckwild and take it to that ass

And send em back where they come from, real fuckin fast
Cause they come over here and think they runnin shit

But all of you foreigners can just suck a nigga′s dick

You come over here, and then you work for fuckin pennies

I look for a job, the man say he can′t get with me

Show me your green card, I bet you ain't got one
Here comes the border patrol, it′s time to go back son
I walk into the neighborhood where I used to chill
I have to stop and ask a brother what the fuck is the deal


Dig it, a black man used to own this store
Now it's ran by Japanese, Iranians, and more
I′m fed up, I want mine, I'm out to get it real quick
Egg rolls and tacos are fuckin makin me sick
I want beans and rice, cornbread and hamhocks
Keep your flour tortilla fried beans and steel woks
Man I′m so mixed up I don't know left from right
Bad enough we had to worry about these motherfuckin whites
Huh, and now we got foreigners
After I get off on your ass, you have to call a coroner

To scrape you up off the streets

Cause if you buck up one time your ass is gettin beat

Sell me this beer you bitch, quit tryin to be hard
You wanna see my fuckin I.D.? Show me your green card
Stupid-ass bastard, you don't know shit
And get the fuck out my face with that twenty-one ho shit
So what′s up on these cases of beer?
I bet you′d sell em to a nigga if the owner wasn't here

Now you tryin to play that Uncle Tom role
But when the owner leaves, I got a foot for your asshole
And motherfucker don′t be lookin sad
Cause when I finish kickin your ass, you'll need a maxi-pad
Day by day, a goddamn routine
Makin them slanted-ass eyes open up like a dope fiend
Lookin all cockeyed and shit
You hoes better raise off of me ′fore you get that ass kicked
Up shit creek we be sellin em
Cause me, and Big Mike, hate the fuckin illegal aliens

These motherfuckin chinks with they eyes so slanted
I wonder can they see, man I just can't stand it
When these motherfuckin Nigerians come my way

Actin like they′re educated in every way
But they can get the dick, cause I know that they're dumb
They need to take they ass back where they come from
They go into the college and they come out with degrees

Callin themselves doctors, motherfucker please
You can't speak English well enough, let alone teach
Then you call your goddamn self, tryin to teach me?
I work with you hoes so I know how you act
You think you′re superior to any other blacks
But I′mma straighten all of that out real fast
Go back to swingin on vines and wearin strings up your ass

Vines? I'll have you know I have six degrees from UCLA
Seven from Harvard, and seventeen from your grade
You capitalist pig, I come from the motherland
Who the shit could he definitely, motherfuck are you?

Now I believe in the motherland and all of that is cool
But you need to chill, with that motherfuckin attitude

And these Cubans wanna be players and boss
Stop frontin motherfuckers and get back on your banana boats
Runnin around town, portrayin Scarface
Hoes be hittin floors when they take a look at your face

And from the back, man or woman I can′t tell
With your hair slicked back, in a motherfuckin ponytail
Chinese, Vietmanese, how the hell can they survive
Eatin only rice and wearin a buckle-five
And when it comes to their names, hell, I just can't get em straight
Michael Chain, Li Chung, Chung Li, damn hold up wait
This shit is drivin me crazy G, I just can′t stand it
Somebody get me away, from these foreign-ass bandits