En El Clavo

They don't call her, they don't want her
They don't want to see reality
There's no tomorrow, we're alone
They don't want to see her

To do what
Everyone does, they're all already there, I'll sum it up for you
I really like them, I don't believe any of them
And I'm not talking to you about rap, trap, that doesn't matter at all
It's an industry of the deaf, praying to see me mute

I don't make a song for it to be a hit
I write lyrics that the ass-kissers don't dare
I know perfectly well what moves them here, but
If I play the ball, it's to be Pelé, not a puppet
Change your Blake bases a little, they're the same
Yes, like all the ones you listen to on your headphones

I don't throw principles to the ground for you and you for the one you admire
You're just a shitty reproduction
Listen to me and you'll become smarter
I think for myself, not what everyone else does
And don't call me God, it's not the same, he's there to listen to you
You listen to me because I exist

I preach, if with the example
Not for popularity or to please them more
I defend women because I know what they've been through
But some see an ass, not the blood they've shed
You, who knows all about posing, have the brain of a mushroom
It turns out that the guy with the profile picture without a shirt
Calls a woman a slut because you can see half a boob

Oh, oh, have you seen where you're going, oh, oh, there's no solution
Brother, but then I'm the weird one
In this damn world, being honest is expensive
You want more great songs, I come up with them effortlessly
It doesn't cost me anything, even if it's very expensive
The problem is what the hell is it good for

They don't call her, they don't want her
They don't want to see reality
There's no tomorrow, we're alone
They don't want to see her

A little bird told me that life doesn't depend
On what you work on in life, they expect
Me to work from Monday to the weekend or to buy a Kinder egg
And get myself a master's like Cifuentes
I feel like Snow White in the forest
I talk to my dog because people, I don't know
I know that all that glitters is not gold, it's just a pose
That's why the beautiful is not seen, it's known

I shouldn't even have been born yet
I feel ahead of a time that has lied to me
My mistake was looking for something that has never existed
That's why you won't find anything if you're lost
I'm a cynic with beautiful music
That people listen to when they start to see their grave
That I'm rising so much scares a lot of people
Because they know that in my lyrics there's an embarrassing truth

What do they know about music that comes from the soul
I don't care, at gigs or on the street clapping
What are you going to teach me, rich kid, if when I released
My first song, you were watching cartoon network
If you don't like the music, change it

But don't tell a genius how to rub a lamp
You'll understand who sings for the gallery
And who does it to pay for bread day by day
The more time passes, the more I think, everything's fake
A path of roses, tell me if you walk barefoot
One day I'll put on shoes, grab my suitcase and go to a planet
Where there's a Ctrl+Z

They don't call her, they don't want her
They don't want to see reality
There's no tomorrow, we're alone
They don't want to see her