RESIDENTE (BZRP Music Sessions #49)

[Chapter 1]

I'm a little uneasy while the urban genre I keep an eye on
Peeking out like a crocodile in the Nile River
Settling a couple of pending accounts before Milo arrives

Sitting on a chair under an umbrella in camisilla
With the dog biting my shoes
Belching tortilla' and buttered toast
Aiming at the horizon with a rifle without a sight

While I talk alone like Don Quixote
With beer foam on the mustache
Waiting for these hot dogs to come out of the stand
Like a bud, before the boat sinks on them

But as always, shit comes out floating
I'm prepared to give these pot blowers until the cartridge runs out
Today I knock down marketing of jerk
like How we knocked down the statues of Cristóbal Colón

I break these junk
Like a rocker in the 80s smashing his guitar
With the Resi, you get muddy
Even my verses became alcoholic
Because there are too many bars

I come from the hood
From Trujillo the drums sound in the streets, ro-po-pom-pom
No discussion, even my brother Don
He knows that in rap there is only one King Kong

Sending fire, this is White Lion, no game
Like in the times of Voltio with Tego
You and I are not the same
I do not believe in the stars of digital platforms
Not even on your cake cream billboards
Not even in your Instagram stories
Dolce & Gabbana and Cartier
I only believe in my level
And in the charcoal of my pencil running over the paper

I do this for fun
For fun, for fun
I do this for fun
For fun, for fun

Like I'm leaving right now
I'm going to take a couple before I go

[Chapter 2]

Today I fuck the fame industry
Until breaking the springs to the bed
When my talk spills, I fuck them without pajamas
Vertical and horizontal, like in a crossword

In the rap battles, I am the terror of the terrors of this era
For these losers springs are no longer multicolored
Because where I throw a punchline the flowers stop growing

They are fifth class artists
They write less than a pen without ink
When they see me they break down
Pale white color like the fake teeth that are put on

When the cap with the R is coming
The entire stage begins to smell like a peasant farm
Because these fake rappers turn into chickens
With my rhyme, when I impose discipline, like in China
My routine only sees heads rolling down the hill
The French Revolution with the guillotine
Burning showcases, I'm going all out, I'm going up
With a bottle, a towel and gasoline, like in Palestine
I make it easy, like peeling tangerine peels
Comfortable, like a seat when its reclining
I'm Correa, Báez and Lindor, routine double play
This is not for Instagram, this is resolved in the cabin

I kill them by tying my right and left
Singing nursery rhymes, skipping rope
There is no break to lose
If I put them all in a blender, out will come a shit smoothie

For two minutes of a song, they have twenty writers
Even managers are songwriters
Five hundred dollars for a ticket, gentlemen
to jump around the stage like an asshole dressed up in colors

the Auto-Tune and the playback activated
These fools sing even with the microphone off
You can't be the leader, champion of champions
If they wrote all your fucking songs for you

A well-done hot dog is delicious
The problem is that these liars did not cook it
These bums have a sweet tooth
They don't even bring the plate to the table and they take the tip from the waiter

And they're not ashamed, that's the shame
Bees make honey, but the bear eats it
You don't buy respect for being talented
It is one thing to be an artist, another thing is to be famous

Oh, a cleansing has to be done
Lots of delusions of grandeur, little skill
This only begins
And I'm still going for my first beer

I do this for fun
For fun, for fun
I do this for fun
For fun, for fun

Like I'm leaving right now
I'm going to take a couple before I go

[Interlude - Residente and Gabriel Cabra]

Gabriel, is that alright?
Mmm, it's really good shit, bro
But if you throw shots at Balvin, I could like it
No, not Balvin, bro
That bastard is a dumbass
alright, go for it

[Chapter 3]

I'm going to lower myself to a dumbass
Who sings about SpongeBob and Pokémon
The copy of a clone, the Logan Paul of reggaeton
This is lower than ejaculating without an erection

As they say over there
Little Jose , you're not gangster, that's why you have soft knuckles
With just a video I bury this calf
And I'll have him uploading photos with his dog

This coward, young lamb
It's like a vegan breakfast, without eggs (balls)
The people fighting, they are killing each other
And the guy uploads photos of Ghandi praying

Lying Jackass, makes himself spiritual
Using mental health to sell a documentary
You are more false than a hot dog without ketchup or bread
Faker than Luian's abs

The guy is so insecure
That he has to be announcing on Instagram how much money he earns
He Doesn't understand the values ​​of life
You have to tattoo the word loyalty because you'd forget it

He's a moron with hair dye
Who put black women with dog chains around their necks
A white boy who lost his way
A divine accepting his Afro-Latino award

One day he said he wanted to do reggaeton, being frank
When discovering that Daddy Yankee was white
My Bro, the worst of all and the most serious
It's just that this asshole is racist and he doesn't know it

History is going to give you a slap in the face on behalf of all those who, under abuse, picked cotton
And another slap on behalf of all those who have had to battle twice within reggaeton

Myke Towers, Sech, ChocQuibTown, Rafa Pabön
Don Omar, Ozuna, Arcángel, Tego Calderón
They are a lot that, without thinking, you put under the drawer
In your rainbow of colors the color brown doesn't exist

A sacrilege, this little white boy from school
He still doesn't understand the fucking privilege
But what do they expect from this failure?
Raised by his dad, a frustrated influencer

In Puerto Rico so they could give him respect in reggaeton
Swallowed more milk (cum) than a condom
For every blowjob, he climbed a step
Every day dressed in a different color like a chameleon

What Rubén said, the Resident sustains it
Although he changes color, I always know where he comes from
Chameleons watch over their own navel
They make friends even of their enemies
Nothing else with the witness

Business is business, partner
In business there are no friends
Mine is not business, we are different
For the music, I put my heart in front
My billboards are held by people
Next to my letters on each banner to bring down a president

I'm not the most famous of the whole circuit
But I split your favorite rapper in twenty
What I said in Calma Pueblo, I repeat
With me they eat even if they have no appetite

I'm not doing this to give you advice
Not even to abuse you even if it's uneven
Today I skin you
So that those who buy the hot dog shirt feel good assholes

This is for the guys
For the respect that everyone who writes deserves
The Formula 1 are for tourists, they no longer run
'Cause I just broke the track
Ah!

I do this for fun
For fun, for fun
I do this for fun

For fun, for fun
I do this for fun
For fun, for fun

Like I'm leaving right now
I'm going to take a couple before I go

Well, I already took them