Mala Fama

The gun under the bed I can't
Lead a healthy life and people say
I went for the bad that I'm bad
I have a bad reputation!

I was used to being criticized
This environment the snobby people
Spoke ill and I just wanted that
When I sang God would listen to me
And forgive me

I just want to give my humble opinion
And to the kid from the slums
Give him a song
Don't waste your time reading the
Bible all day if you speak ill you don't take care
Of your family

Living on the street is to enter
Madness I have a thousand details
And I keep going up the stairs
I keep living life my way
Making music that is useless
In the record label

Up the candy sellers rapping
To the 4 winds if I confused
Brother I'm sorry my family is
The one that gives me strength I have
Attention deficit only with rap
I concentrate

They call me religious the fool
Then when they are in trouble they
Remember him that's how the fools are
Tell them that the Chilean rapper
Will be called Manuel

I left the elegant art parties I took
A giant step forward
And it manifests itself leave the door
Open wake up there's no time
To take a nap

I got bored that rap was monotonous
Given the circumstances my sword
Is a microphone the guys in prison
Keep rapping on the phone
In the street rap has been my
Psychologist

Listen to the monologue
For me it's valid that they stop the
Weed and use more dialogue
They don't know! How do I come up with so many topics
It's because I write every time there's a problem

Elegant art is my life
Elegant art is my life
Elegant art is my life
It showed me the way out

The gun under the bed I can't
Lead a healthy life and people say
I went for the bad that I'm bad
I have a bad reputation