120 Bpm

[Dash]
Doing it ain't as easy as it sounds, babe,
check my hand, it controls this girl on a sheet,
call this something opposite to your doctrine,
examine this thorn, share your thoughts on the pages.
You grind, adrenaline flows every night,
my music in a car is the highlight that stands out,
far from these hills of cocaine, guess what,
hip hop is just rap on your player or discipline.
Take off that beret, today nah, who’s worth my time,
if it sounds bad later, only in a chat they train,
putting up the antenna,
and throwing sand on my work, that’s how the scene is.
Envy is the gangrene spreading among newbies,
in anonymity 'cause they know I’ll take them out,
come on, if you name me, put your name if you’re a man,
that you’ll hang from your neck at this peak with wires, kid.
I expect from wannabes who start today, watch your head,
when my hand rocks a beer,
hip hop is what comes out of my ass,
meaning peace or violence,
my science gets altered with my patience.
I write to you out of revenge,
let me convince you when I win,
if your style is embarrassing from laziness,
king, just bark that perishes with a PC,
let it shit on your faith of wanting to win,
'cause MC, you exceed before this CD, you’ll see,
better give me pity or your stay will be brief,
essence if you’re a puppet even if you’re a tough guy,
and you better peel or climb, appeal over papers,
you’re looking for something to get high on, that pops in that mp3,
my rap at my desk promises to be more than a seven,
it must be that it deserves to be called alive,
and for having a whole collection of underground rap online.

Here you go, this is a game of reflections,
if cancer doesn’t kill you, you’ll die old,
I got this mic pointed at your forehead,
life is a mirror that reflects your complexes.

Here you go, this is a game of reflections,
if I don’t kill you, you’ll die old,
I got this mic pointed at your forehead,
my rap is a mirror that reflects your complexes.