(A-migos)

Quinceanera. Please, mija, come to your senses.
Baby, it’s too expensive to do all that.
Sure, you’re our favorite, but won’t you listen to reason?
You’ve maxed out our Visa, and we can’t pay it back.

Don’t you wanna go to college, girl,
At least that beauty trade school?
Then the pink and turquoise limo has to go.
And it seems to me that layer cake’s
As tall as our sweet angel.
Yes, we had your dress expressed from Mexico.

No dinero. Banco de Papa’s gone under,
And it makes me wonder how this all began.
Your sisters, your sisters, they all wanna be like you.
You might want to lighten up your list of demands.

All the disco lights and the fog machines,
We hope you get what it really means –
We’re doing all we can to let you know,
Ambos padres love you very much.
We could really never do enough, and so…your…

Quinceanera. Maybe we’ve all lost our senses,
But all of these presents, they’re just on loan.
One day you’ll leave us. Oh, but it won’t be forever.
Familia ties cannot be severed.
(And it just gets better!)
One day we all will live together in your lovely…home!