La tribu

Let’s be real, let’s get wild
Stop with the nonsense
Let’s get back to basics, to the roots
This song’s gonna be the dirtiest, no class
The most immoral, the most primal, the most sexual
Let’s savor the salt
This is a treat but not mystical, it’s all physical
We’re going one by one, in pairs or threes
If you’re feeling bold, we’re going in a group
Mixed up like punch, automatic no clutch
Lift up your shirt to see how it connects
Your back with your dark or fuchsia ass
You’re in my bed 'cause today I’m inspired
Plus, you’ve got a lot of ass to admire
Let me explore you like a kid listens
So you can get wet without needing a shower
Hey, imagine this isn’t reggaeton
Dance barefoot, in sneakers, or with big shoes
Now shake all that like Iris Chacón
We’re gonna give you a little bit of this and that
That girl’s got it going on
I’m sinking into her tortilla like a diver
Even if she’s got a lot of hair like a Russian armpit
For that mahogany, I’ve got my saw
Tonight I’m single
I wanna eat a steak sandwich like a worker
Shake my hips like a merengue dancer
Pull more women than a milkman
But first, we gotta cover the mess
If you’re feeling sick, I’ve got your remedy
Today I’m the easiest, I’m the most down
My dick’s spewing old cheese Frosties
'Cause I haven’t watered the banana patch in a while
But still, we’re gonna make a mess
I’m not putting any buts
I’m going all the way, full throttle
I’m the chef, the great cook
I’m gonna give you a butcher-style massage

(The tribe is wild...)
(And they want mac and cheese...)
(I’m the one who cooks...)
(Let’s give them bacon...)

For everyone, let’s get freaky together
This is non-stop, no breaks
There’s no point, no questioning
No issue, here’s the trick-y
I pull out my pimp-y, you pull out your pink-y
Without thinking, rolling pin-pin
Let’s get kinky
Sprinkle some pepper on your toes
For your greasy skin
So it can be felt even in the placenta
Free love with no charges, no rent to pay
We’re going hippie like in the 60s
"Free Love Grooving", I’m gonna hit it with the tuqui-tuqui
To the veterans, experienced, or rookies
Skinny, average, or chubby cookies
They’re all leaving, all the girls
Like fresh oats
Like when you get detected by the male antennas
For dropping resin like a tangerine
Here I’ve got two bags of flour packed with vitamins
They don’t need gasoline anymore
The engine’s electric, new technology
I’m feeling all ticklish like Elmo
Today I’m really sick
I need a hearty soup
And who’s got the chicken broth?
Seasoned with Don Goyo, Creole color
With a seat for a seat
Looks like she ate spinach
That girl, dark like Shaka
Has the comfiest backrest like a Craftmatic
The original, with her short skirt
With the white panty mark
Any guy’s gonna whistle
Any guy’s about to throw up with that country girl
But back to the point, this isn’t just for the girls
This is for everyone, mama
Those who suck with their mouths closed
Those who see with their ears covered
And at night, the bed’s all messy
With dreams of having hooked up with a taken girl
Or with the desire to have tried Caribbean jalapeño
They’re left wanting, gray hairs are coming in
So come on over

(The tribe is wild...)
(And they want mac and cheese...)
(I’m the one who cooks...)
(Let’s give them bacon...)

(The tribe is wild...)
(And they want mac and cheese...)
(I’m the one who cooks...)
(Let’s give them bacon...)