Hijo de Puta

How fucked up it is to be here,
Many messes, damn it.
I don't need an alarm clock,
Because the screams of a whore drive me crazy in the afternoon,
I add shit from the television,
If it's not the flu, it's the government,
I see the trannies, who sucks better,
An endless amount of bullshit death to Omar and alleys

Son of a bitch! Yeah...

How shitty it is to be here,
Among scams and damn it.
There's no job even as a delivery guy,
I pay taxes with threes and bad blood.
I fart in the middle of an elevator,
Banana and soda, a like explosive,
In the morning it flies much better,
They are my deaf protests while I chop and drink alcohol.
Cania fortin, capri ferne, or bordolina

Son of a bitch and the fucking mother who gave birth to them,
I'm tired of the past and the present buffoon.
Jail and mate in the morning, carpeting the sausage,
The idiot box splashes me with diarrhea the reason.

Sons of bitches
Sons of bitches
Sons of bitches
Sons of bitches

Son of a bitch and the fucking mother who gave birth to them,
I'm tired of the past and the present buffoon.
Jail and mate in the morning, carpeting the sausage,
The idiot box splashes me with diarrhea the reason.