Cella 3

I have the mule in my pocket, it's a holey pocket
I carry the memories of when I was on the street
I have the cops on me, called intercepted
Mom didn't take care, the street took care of Baby Gang

Yes, bro, that little boy who walked with the dog and slept, bro, around, bro, yeah
What do these rappers say?
They talk to me about the street, but they don't live the street, yeah
With fake irons they pretend, don't act like a gangster with me
You're a gangster, yes, in the videos, yeah

I don't threaten, it's advice
I don't give a damn, bro, who you are the son of
And I hear: Tick, tock, tick, tock
Success is coming, every time I think back
And I hear: Click, clack, click, clack
I was locked up in a cell before, now tell me what happened

Hola, bitch, what's up? I was in the square before
At three forty positioned in the room
There's the kid who's killing it, they told the caramba
At four forty sent for Baby Ganga
And I hear: Boom, boom, boom, open the doors, I hear (Open!)

My grandma screams and her son doesn't come back tonight
Twenty months alone locked in the grave
There was no one, just me, I swear
With the cellmate who was screaming

I swear I'll hang myself if you don't open this blind
I break everything, you know I win the war
Done, what I did as a kid
Four, two rappers don't make my fifth

White, don't act black when you're white
Tired of these people, bro, who talk so much
I don't even, if I was born, raised in the band
I deal twenty-four H, yes, in the band