Muy Fan

I have known everything except myself, how true
I have twenty selves and all dead
I fall in love with the mind more than the body
What good is a ship if I don't reach a good port
Now I am the same with ten years of concerts
And I have enough experiences and expertise
To sit them on my knees and tell them stories
But at this point what I spend the least is time
Time, perseverance, not forgetting your roots
And still they come here to talk to me about the street
If you haven't slept in pavilions, or sung for free
If you have four songs and earn more than your daddy
Who has been breaking his back for you until you
Forget everything easily and think you're more of a man
For renting Bugattis, for your clips of asses, tits, chicks

I see everything clearer living in my dark side
For some a genius, for others a pimp
And while in my city they insult me for a wall
I have put your city on the map, fuck you

Let's build the future, kill the past now
Let's not envy, let's support the one next to us
You laugh at the ant you stepped on
And you don't know it can withstand two hundred times what you have endured
It's not a sin to have sinned out of naivety
No one knows anything, the smart one is the one who is confused
Believe me when I say that even
The most whole man crumbles with the songs he composed
I'm a fucking abuse, I don't excuse myself
I look like a God compared to their obtuse brains
That's the saddest part, that I have to make use
Of a music genre to make even think

I'm a fan of those who go face to face
I'm a fan of those who don't stay quiet
I'm a fan of those who are not afraid
Of what others may think of them later
I'm a fan of those who said fear
I'm a fan of those who take flight
And know how to start from scratch

They talk about real, about this, about that
You have to have guts
Real is the one who sings what he lives, idiot
Not the one who wants to live as a singer without knowing how to sing
To hell, I already found enemies
And I keep fighting against only one, and it's with myself
To look good, with whom? And for what friend?
Nobody pays me to neglect my own belly
I will die alone, with everyone as witnesses
Like Christ, but without making noise
I don't talk about love, because it has hurt me
And I don't call her a whore when she's no longer with me
Should I stop? I should, but I want to remember
That rap was content
I measure and thank goodness I measure
If not, I'd be arrested for excessive self-indulgence
Boom, boom, boom! Of course I came to make noise
To be the voice of those who have lost their voice in screams
Boom, boom, boom, I don't stitch without thread
Every sentence I write is another wall I tear down
Let children, mothers, prisoners, posh people, junkies, rappers hear me
I don't like labeling people
Give me their minds and I'll leave their style indifferent
I live angry, nothing new
They call me Notre Dame, I'm art, even spitting fire
I'll do it for my balls, for my grandfather
That before I die my rap will be in heaven

I'm a fan of those who go face to face
I'm a fan of those who don't stay quiet
I'm a fan of those who are not afraid
Of what others may think of them later
I'm a fan of those who said fear
I'm a fan of those who take flight
And know how to start from scratch