3 de Abril

(Real until death)

Kobe in the fourth quarter throwing the ball
I'm the best version of myself when under pressure
Maybe because I grew up in the heat
Where the word friend is synonymous with betrayal

At 15, the bank was going to take our house
My mom crying says: Everything will be fine — and hugs me
Dad lost his job at Sony, that's what happened
Money ran out and he doesn't sleep or rest

From that day on, I dedicated myself to delinquency
I abandoned sports and didn't fear the consequences
They killed my friend and we avenged him with violence
And I walked with the devil the rest of my adolescence

I dealt with drugs for money and because I wanted to
And I loved being armed and running from the police
A Christian told me that one day they would kill me
They tried to kidnap me and I almost died

(God works in mysterious ways)
(One day they tried to kidnap me, but I came out alive)
(A couple of days later, I was arrested)
(And they had told me that my career was dead)
(But look at me now)

I recorded with Ñengo and little by little people started to notice me
I released a couple of trap songs and then recorded in Esclava
I recorded 6-9 with Ozuna and Soldado y Profeta
And my gun wasn't a woman, but it had a barrel

I partied for a thousand pesos and even for free
I'll shit on the mother of-, The Illuminati
My God, I've never gotten over Presi's death
And life is a rollercoaster, look at Tekashi

On April 3rd, they arrested me with two of my buddies
They followed us and set up an operation
The feds took the case, I was screwed
And the prosecutor had two nicknames next to my name

That day they caught me, I was thinking
That my buddy wanted to kill me and was hunting me
Plus the old problems I was still carrying
I understood that the streets didn't want to see me succeed

(Real until death, got it, bastard?)

Soldier and prophet, more guns and more tools
The wave of murders increases, they see me and get feverish
Ten kilos in your helmet, to break you
And in three days, you're dead in a funeral bus

Underwater, the dead don't float
And they think they can stop bullets whenever they notice
Calm down, kid, they'll find you wicked
When your woman hands you over and we apply the Draco

Demonic and we put the toad mask on you
And hang you from a bridge, Guzmán flow, El Chapo
They kill me or I kill them
They see the bullets and dance vallenato

I'm at the top and I won't fall
In Forbes and Rolling Stones, everyone is talking about Anuel
That's my life, it's a trauma
If you don't like the heat, bastard, don't go into the sauna

You'll always be my shadow
I arrive in the jet, they open the door and throw the carpet
We're diving so they don't hide
And we shoot for the skull, so they don't respond

More comb than a barber
And my 4-7 is like Yankee with Playero
And in every state, I have an armorer
And when I smoke, the ashtrays are Versace

And the sights of the R's, all are Trijicon
I go up, but never down, there's no law of attraction
I go up to the 36th floor in the Aventador
So millionaire that even the car has an elevator (brrr)