Yo Soy Asi

(Reprimand)

I am like this
Because I am a reprimand
And I offend anyone
Who talks trash about me
Be it a cop, be it a prosecutor, be it even Sila
Fine women, and also the whores
Forgive me children, and girls for my high expressions
I'm not to blame for being like this in my songs
Bastards, stop mentioning my name for my saintly mother, they will die for my songs
Hello, how are you Comay
I have a burst of shots that you won't dodge
You know how to shoot, but death is my specialty
For presents, you will take everything
Damn old woman, bitch, crackhead
Look, my life is perfect
I'm not like you who earns money by shooting at artists
Damn bitch, what do you want
For me to bow down
Don't think I'm going to fall on my knees before you
For all the shit they say to me
Breathe, because you feel like you're suffocating
I'm the strangler for those who throw at me

All those who talk about me suck it
Shut up, I don't want any more fame
Stop mentioning my name for good or bad
Or else you'll die by Baby Rasta
All those who talk about me suck it
Shut up, I don't want any more fame
Stop mentioning my name for good or bad
Or else you'll die by Baby Rasta

And now they're on with the rap
And even looking for a new dick to pull out our music
Worry about something more important
About Puerto Rico, which is about to turn
We are not the cause to lift this country up
That cannot be straightened
This is the problem with the damn parties
Who don't have their balls in place
And even look for the dumbest, the poor
Making them feel guilty for their mistakes
You use them as your cleaners
Because they remain loyal like suckers
To me, they are a bunch of deceivers
Who promise, and promise, and are not fulfillers
Fuck you, burn in hell
Because you won't have a vote from this damn rapper
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
(Fuck Velda!) (Fuck Velda!)
Fuck Velda, fucking Velda. damn Velda
Your legislation can go to hell
You screwed your granddaughter nailed by a rapper
Could it be that's why you want to mess with our genre
I'm just going to give you several examples
Listen to me well whites, and blacks
I'm not crazy to say what I'm feeling
I'm tired of them messing with my genre
Vico C does drugs, and how they support him
And they come to complain to me because I set trends
And if there's something that embarrasses me about being a rapper
It's seeing Vico C dressed as a dog in a video
Chicole, hijole, look at him
With the Jordan shirt tucked into his pants
Oh no, this is really tough
He went to Humolandia, and didn't come back
However, they accuse me for my songs
And then they portray me as a corruptor of minors
And of exploiting women in bikinis
Who appear in videos on their TVs
They want a little more, well I'll give them more
I'll give society another example
If the Gangster with his exciting women
Cause their children to lock themselves in their bathrooms
To masturbate, and Puerto Rico's television
Showing movies with high content
Of sex, drugs, violence, and rape
And then they judge rappers for their songs
To hell with all of you, may you all die
At the last minute I don't have to explain
And look here, who sets the example
You, or the damn rappers

All those who talk about me suck it
Shut up, I don't want any more fame
Stop mentioning my name for good or bad
Or else you'll die by Baby Rasta
All those who talk about me suck it
Shut up, I don't want any more fame
Stop mentioning my name for good or bad
Or else you'll die by Baby Rasta

(Hahaha!)
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
(Don't be scared, Puerto Rico!)
(Tripping!)
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...
I won't die...
I will live...