Ideales

They will never be able to categorize me into anything
Put on the instrumental that you want
I rose from the shit to screw up your fame
And to put a period in this panorama

I am the voice of human paranoia when it screams
What nobody looks for but everyone needs
You won't see tits, nor an ass, nor half
You'll see rap, pure like dynamite

Boom!, chiqui-boom!, written magic
Tell me who you boast about, I'll tell you who you imitate
When you stop seeing women as objects
I'll believe you talk about love with your damn little guitar (fuck you)

I'm not fooled by those pipas
Who claim to be street and are the fucking rich class
Are you going to talk to Chita about monkeys?
Or tell Jesus what holy water is?

Puppeteers, move little heads from above
They want them very happy, they have a blast
I act like I don't understand anything and smile at them
But if you touch my hand, I'll gut you

B.L.K. explains the story
For the weathervanes that go where the wind blows
The tough part is not getting to the top with an argument
The tough part is keeping it, even if you don't arrive on time

Sometimes I convince myself, for a moment
That I regret everything I told everyone
But then I think
And count with zero fucking fingers those who supported me

I feel less and less, colder and colder
Crazier and crazier, more and more mine
I'm torn between hanging myself or throwing myself tied to the river
To see how those who never loved me cry for me

They don't call, they don't call me by my name
They love me when I have what they want and nothing more
And it gets worse, how right my mom was
If they weren't here yesterday, don't look for them tomorrow

One gives me, two, a shit
They didn't believe in me and now every song of mine here is a hit (yes)
I have my reasons to only believe in myself
I got here, alone without expecting to receive

And now they want Rema at every gig
Thinking that B.L.K. sells out for just one song
It seems you know me very little, idiot
They won't give me a record, but they'll give me golden balls

What am I going to tell you, man?
If there are mothers who tell me they got divorced thanks to my songs
Opening the eyes of a brave woman
Fills me more than a stadium full of people

Don't you understand? My weapon is the mind
Hers is a decadent industry
When everything changes and I become a reference
Remember they called me