Historias

Tu-lala-lara-lara, lalara-lalala, lalala-lara-lara
Laralara, lalala, lararara

Listen
May God bless our luck today
I tell Omar: You're my little brother until death
Playing and the sun rising, you don't know how to burn
Listen, he says

Throwing stones at the moon but you never reach it
Always throwing jabs and you think you're ahead of me
We are the ones from the street sounding in high areas
We measure the words ourselves with a balance

Foolish to insult me on Instagram for a while
And then act like nothing happened
I've sworn to erase from my skin everything you've tattooed
Respect deep down you've never earned

Checks that leave you half catastrophic
Wearing black gothic, at work I'm a cliché (oh, no)
I've never flaunted it, I've kept it for myself
They shoot you in the face, if you don't end up locked up

Always joking around daily, sitting in my neighborhood
And I walk with my soldier and there's no fear of the adversary
I'm almost always quiet and almost always troubled
And even though it's hard to let go, the past burns inside me

It's ten o'clock, lying in the house, stretching my feet
Koala calls me, telling me to get dressed and stand up
We meet at the spot, tell One to release the stress
That tonight he'll be crowned, he already knows how it is

If it's midnight, we'll fit twenty in a four-seater car
There's no contract, but if with your life you make a deal
If they're not more than thirty, you won't get a good taco
Go on, brother, they're already getting ready in the water

And seventeen minus, we're left with only four
They're calling from above and say to do the job
And he was the new one but I never back down
With me are my people, respect attracts the bundle

Throwing stones at the moon but you never reach it
Always throwing jabs at me and you think you're ahead
We are the ones from the street sounding in high areas
We measure the words ourselves with a balance

Checks that leave you half catastrophic
Wearing black gothic, at work I'm a cliché (oh, no)
I've never flaunted it, I've kept it for myself
They shoot you in the face, if you don't end up locked up

Checks that leave you half catastrophic
Wearing black gothic, at work I'm a cliché
I've never flaunted it, I've kept it for myself
They shoot you in the face, if you don't end up locked up

Listen, listen, listen, ah
Free Omar, bastard
Fuck the ops, fuck the cops
A million times