Trip Across from Mexico - Willie D

I had a friend

Well anyway that’s what I thought he was

When it began

Our friendship was strong as steroids

I took him in

'Cause he had no place to go

Fed him, treated him like a king

Even bought him clothes

We had been cool since grade school

Then he played me for a fool

The ungrateful punk

Proved to me, kindness wasn’t worth a molecule

He was the low down on the clown

He used to hang around

Eat up all the grub, never washed the tub

Willie Dee got bugged

One day I left work came home

Early with a high fever

Opened the door, guess what I saw?

Him making love to a beaver

It was kind of funny so I laughed

But soon became uptight

When I got a little closer and discovered

That that beaver belonged to my wife

I beat the boy to a coma

Time for the nine to be released

I shot the bitch several times

Picked up the phone and called the police

They sent me to jail, the next con in my cell

Asked me why’d I go

I just stared at him and said

«Trip across from Mexico»

(Go back, you dirty black)

(Go back, you dirty black)

Politicians

They ain’t to be trusted

They legalize drugs

And then they get busted

They don’t want to hear me speak 'cause my mind ain’t weak

'Cause I’m code red alerted

But I won’t divert;

if the truth kills perverts

Shit, I’ll dig the dirt

I’m not a Democrat or Republican

Yeah, just an American

It don’t matter which party’s in the house

They’ll still fuck up thangs

Every hypocrite nominee

Promises to lower taxes

Ask them about it when they’re president

And they start laughing

They want to create jobs

For underprivileged folk

They create cells to lock 'em down

When they survive by selling dope

Trip across from Mexico

(People open your eyes and see. Two hundred years later and the black man is

still not free.

The failure to appoint blacks to high government positions is

just another form of slavery.

I for one will never believe in equality until

we’re no longer on the outside looking in.)

They, I’m talking about the other race

Kidnapped us from our place

They didn’t want us to have what it took

So those crooks hid the damn textbooks

I wonder can I get y’all to drop the pipe

And get high on life

The dopeman could give a damn if you live or die

It’s time to get right

(Come on, tell 'em)

Trip across from Mexico

Three homeboys in Houston

Once hit up a liquor store

Two got away, one got shot

In the back, went through the glass door

He died at the scene at the hands of a clerk

The was hurt

The police got a good description

Of a prime suspect

They knew his name, they knew his game

They knew from where he came

They went straight to his house, arrested him

Began to tamper with his brain

They threatened to incarcerate him for years

Unless he snitched

He brought the story, broke his vow

Surrendered his accomplice

The punk who plead bargain was sent to the pen

Due for ten

The friend he turned in had people in the courts

He now resides in Oregon

The boy got the jacket, became a faggot

'Cause nobody likes a snitch

They took his drawers, gave him panties

Now he walks with a switch

He went to the warden, crying about the deal

Back in '83

Six years locked down, booty pound

Yet still no amnesty

The Warden just smiled and said

«Remember that brother you betrayed from the liquor store?

«Well that was my nephew, ho»

Trip across from Mexico

(Go back, you dirty black)

(Go back, you dirty black)

Trip across from Mexico as defined by Willie Dee.

Any backstabbing move by any

slimy low down motherfucker you thought was cool