Soldado y Profeta

Soldiers who have committed their lives as if it were a game
Soldiers who gave everything their life could be to a firearm
People who break down the problems of the street as if they were prophets
People who exchanged their inner peace for nights of hate, restless hours
Situations that are no longer healthy
That can no longer be controlled with their hands
Walking demons controlling human bodies
That moment when there is no longer any opportunity to run
The rifle sounds, biting and digesting your skin
The goodness of hearts was consumed with calm
And whatever they do after you take the step
Satan already has your soul targeted
The dead come and go, PR looks like Vietnam
Things are not as they used to be
My God, forgive me, I know I'm doing wrong
These bastards aren't going to kill me
The rifles and the Glock, the mask and the gloves
The chip is my 40 and the arm of a demon
Looking for these bastards to hold a wake for them
And see you in the oven

At gunpoint we put you in a trunk
It's that you bend over yourself when the full spits out at you
You know about us, I walk with the new blood
A quick buzzer that gives you a cramp in your chest
Camping for Boston, pure time for those who twist faces
Son of a bitch you don't understand the monsters have arrived
The cost of Ñengo has risen since versatility
A 47 pistol for the motherfuckers who are high and for me
Where the R gives you twists
We are real warriors, we do not know the perse
Wherever we go they have to move or hide
I'll empty it completely, you lickspittle, if you grow up
I am from Baya and with pride do not navigate the sea
Because without fantasizing I take out and give you what's yours
Anuel, Almighty, Ozuna we're chipped and spitting on the Moon
You will cry blood soon and torture in your capture
(Son of a bitch, we're coming for you, get ready because you're going to die face to face like a man, lots of bullets from head to toe)

Soldier and prophet but my bible is my baton
I'll get on the AK and I'll wipe your mask
Living in war like Sinaloa and Lozeta
Riding in a taxi with the vendetta mask
Yampi tell him whoever touches you
We're going to leave him hanging on a post
The pelco in the pot on the waist the chipote
Talk shit and I'll put my Jordan on your mustache
We have the route, I'll screw your bitch
I got the rifle in the cockpit like Tupac
Smoking with Coa hunting like a boa
I'll hit you with a whip and you'll fall like Gamboa
From Carolina to Santurce and from Santurce to Carola
Bastards, there are no vests for the chola
Here it is not about having a gun because I will wait for you outside the chanoli
And I'll kill you underwater if it doesn't attract a tail
Recruit, they are dying, make an adjustment
Because the AK made a mess
Don't be afraid, but we will dress in mourning
Movie will make the R debut
All pistols are new and all rifles are new
I know what it is like to live in war, I do not hide
We'll come to your house when they're ready
And we killed those who were already taking over the batons
Almighty anything for money
The guns are always inside the brothel
I'm going to Medellin, I'll wait for you outside the mall
With the F and we turn on the violin
Cain killed Abel but we killed Cain
Dead photo in Xposed Magazine
Singing is bullshit they will find you inside a Toyota
Without eyes and without tongue when we collect your fee

The dead come and go, PR looks like Vietnam
Things are not as they used to be
My God, forgive me, I know I'm doing wrong
These bastards aren't going to kill me
The rifles and the Glock, the mask and the gloves
The chip is my 40 and the arm of a demon
Looking for these bastards to hold their funeral
And see you in the oven

For death, a sentence is better
They don't want to see the AK burn
My guns are always full
They are looking for all the countries that are looking for the plane to land
We cut down the bush with everything and roots, it's fine
This is music for smuggling by those who are in command
We have the flow that your bitch likes that's why she keeps calling
Tools that are all from factory packages, always full
Here it is not the one who snores with fekas, it is the one who invoices the most and the one who puts in the most
Lambete and you will see the Glock on your forehead
He who hammered them in this one hangs the bombaclot
If we catch them they will sweat cold
Soldier and prophet of all the villages, with mine

I live in a downpour, the donkeys don't get wet in the puddle
The shorts in the postman's wallets
Nobody knows the recipes, only those who stir the cauldron
The buckets are the rifles with whole combs
I don't want war, I want to make a ticket and buy Ferra clothes
Take a ticket and explore the land
The TL of the cure breaks down expenses of all invoices
I go and buy myself a high-rise mansion
Do you want to party for no reason? Then let's party
But pay for all the bullets we spend
Baby you can trust that we will achieve everything we focus on
I invest the profits or I get a pimp and burn them
The private, prophet and soldier
Being blind is not the same as walking through life with blindfolded eyes
I want to employ not be an employee
Life is a hotel and nobody knows how long they are staying there
Stay, keep the kids' mother up to date
Getting in the car without the piece and hands on the guide
Sometimes life tires me out in secret
But as long as I am doing well, no one's word will overshadow mine. (Almighty)

The dead come and go, PR looks like Vietnam
Things are not as they used to be
My God, forgive me, I know I'm doing wrong
But they're not going to kill me
The rifles and the Glock, the mask and the gloves
The chip is my 40 and the arm of a demon
Looking for these bastards to hold their funeral
And see you in the oven

Loyalty was fractured, hearts consumed with evil
Whoever wants to take my life, they will have to find me
They can't miss, aim and shoot
Shoot with all your might when you find me because I won't let myself be killed
Who and how many are there who look at me with the eyes of enemies?
Who and how many are those who think they can defeat me?
(The 40)
And I'm stepping on your heels, act like a clown
And we pass you the lungs and the glass at the push of a button
And the sick man breaks your winter back
The only one who talks to friends inside hell
In torment act but let go of the story
You're going to run until your ligaments tear
Leave the friction or the pistol cooks them
If you are on 11th Street
Virgil, don't let yourself be seen
The stick is going to bite and Lucifer is doing his errands Anuel
Double K waits to see if I start
And he lights the stick until his eyes turn white
Cool, the situation is getting out of hand
Demons controlling human bodies
If you pull, it's not them who shoot
Demons are not killed by shooting them with bullets
Keep talking and hanging out
On behalf of the father of the son and all of us who are looking for you
Dividing sides and we are hunting you
You will die with the octopuses swimming