It's quite a mess at the border's this hassle,
It's quite enough with this Mexican war.
High crime's defining a war zone arena,
Manic are they like hyenas hardcore.

Attackers ignite 'cause these guys' demeanor's,
Slicker than weasels while smashing in sculls.
Vigil should keep, cartels keep invadin',
Heaven above this is insane as hell.

Why's it allowed the drugs they rein in?
Piled in a rust bucket van.
Trashing and scaring,
Their stink's overbearing.
It's so "que lastima", [1]
Their world is their drugs.

Call the Rangers to

Challenge a fight for their drugs over laden,
Let them be damned, let the gun fire roar.
Their malice a cancer that's messin' on our street,
Can't ransom a ranger to trade for a whore.

Now is the moment to put down the violence,
Shock and defile evil greed come undone.
Distraught, enraged at the crimes of these hoods there,
Must now take up stance, we're under the gun.

Out with the crack whores and ruses they've ran,
Out them with forces, divide.
There's not a good one,
Lest dead where he stood son.
From black tar smack,
Way too many have died.

'Til the last trash is

Shooed from the stressed reckless towns gone el trasho,
Back to their home lands of old Mexico.

Smack from el trasho has made life so worthless,
Everything's gone to strife, everywhere's bereft.
It seems so wrong let these gangs keep invadin',
I'd love to strangle them clear unto death.

Let's battle up so away they will go,
Driving them out of the park.
Maybe the sorrow,
Takes bullets to bind free.
Tonight we disperse all co-
caine in these parts.

We're now past fear and

Damn it to hell is this puking el trasho,
Can't keep their noses down south there below.
They rub us wrong all those dope pushin' cowards.
Pound them to hell then let "La Migra" know. [2]

Off to the fight there be five hundred cowboys,
Leave no one left, not their cousins or whores.
Routing and rooting we can't let them get free,
We have to lay them out on the flat floor.

We want them dead, fully gone no appeal,
A sweep taking aim nationwide.
Though they are trying,
To stay in the battle.
They get worn weary,
Disabled and fried.

And the luck for

La Migra is on and they rise to the callin',
Though the clan's leery they can't stop arrest.
They be so quite rough, don't joke with or trifle,
They wear the bullet proof keep safe the chest.

Now they will go where La Migra can ground them,
Hissing they shriek as their squeals they decry.
Ladened they strew lugging arms that they buy here,
We must insist, these hyenas go bye.