Mi Filosofía

Check it out, check it out, check it out
Yeah, ah

Just trust in my philosophy
It sounds like poetry from a prophecy
With a cool head, but full of smoke
I make the melody to get you to move your ass

I keep it simple, never lose my style
I'm like a knife that always stays sharp
I ask you for your weed, but you don’t give me any
So I steal it from you and ask for more

Where you headed? Phul King, Alemán
Underground rap, super surround
Don’t throw shade, we’re feeling real high
We’re such badasses, wipe that smile off

I say "Bye," I don’t want more heat
We’re like rats screwing in the sewers
You’re Dracula, I’ll be the stake
Your rap’s like the ass of a really skinny girl, yeah

Put your hands in the air
Put your hands in the air
Put your hands in the air
Put your hands in the air
Check it out

One, two, three, four
I’m coming in like this 'cause I didn’t count before
Thanks to my mouth 'cause I’m always rapping
I don’t even know what to rhyme, and well, I’m just starting

Don’t pay me much mind, I don’t know where to begin
I don’t ask you to understand me, I don’t even get myself
One, two, three, four
I’m coming in like this 'cause my damn balls are swelling

Maybe tomorrow I’ll die and I won’t regret it later
That’s why I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want
I repeated it 'cause I wanted to
Sometimes the things that don’t make sense are the happiest

You better let me know when you step on these streets
They’ll kill you here even for a pair of Yeezys
I’m ready if they pull a knife
And before I act, my buddy the blonde already did

True Mexico, green, white, and red
Weed, coke, blood, you name it
The poor in the mud and the damn rich and the government playing dumb
Sometimes I want to forget and

More acid in the marrow, we’re Homegrown Mafia
A cell, and if I break your bones, a splint
Uh, la-lá, wait for it, just the tip
The doctor’s needle isn’t always needed

Don’t get bummed out