Na

These damn mediocre pieces of shit, seriously, they've had enough of me
They're looking for me to set up a dictatorship like Castro
And I won't leave a trace as long as my health is with me
And my mental virtue against this unreal genre is relentless

And don't be surprised if armies come out against my success
To try to stop the sea of evil in my lexicon
I explain to them that they're wasting their time with me
I'm sorry, my friend, but as long as I'm alive, I tell you

That not even saints can handle it when I lose my temper
I'm lost, my little brain is very twisted
There are no mistakes when I intrude in my songs
Like a spinning top dancing in my hand, it's belly, brothers, react

I consume tracks like a cigarette in my jaws
I don't take responsibility for traumas caused by so much rap from a Canser
Dude, you know who I am, yes, but you don't know me
Don't have any choice against this one who rhymes like the gods: Tyrone José

No, José, how the hell do you write so much? And nothing
Leave the fright because I'm just warming up
I won't stop until you crash into the wall
I'll do it, and you'll feel like a puree, look, disappear

From that little bit of faith you have in believing
That you can go against the one who drinks and always thirsts
Write something!, that's worth it, damn it
I'm talking about something that provokes listening

I carry so much anger that they call me the angry one
Oh God!, like when she puts on my lips
Her nipples, that's how many feel when I sing to them
It's something!, delicious like the bitterest rum, muah!

I don't get tired of stepping on your face
I know it pisses you off to see how I crush you without being able to do anything
It's a whisper, buzzing, that doesn't let you sleep
And when you're about to leave, the theme that annoys you is playing

I don't know what they're going to do to stop this plague
They'll have to ban the internet throughout America to
See if the rhymes that you know don't come out
That at this moment even Chavez's children are listening to

I'm Chamo González, look for me in Ares
We're underground like all the neighborhoods of Petare
Mariara, Los Hornos, La Carrizalera, to El Valle
And a million under zones where cassava is beaten, you know?

Many say I'm crazy, and maybe a little
Sometimes I think I have a huge mechanism inside my coconut
The doctor says I should be medicated
But you know what? Deep down, I love hating

It's so brutal, something natural in my chromosomes
A Tyrito and a Canserbero killing each other in my neurons
How are you going to compare me to an idiot?
It's obvious that you're just a copy of a copy

I'm the Can Can, you're not
So aware that there's no man who sounds so
Excellent, how can you say I'm not death?
If every time I sing I stick a dart right in your mind

Now the trend is to say they're not trendy
All with the same story, more witches than brooms
Like Neruda's Odes or like Cuban cigars
My rap is special like a supernova

Don't mess around!, I've been rapping since I was eleven
When the Corte Imperia was heard more than Beyoncé
And then how do you expect to fool me?
By house, manger, louse for nit, I always catch them!

All good lyrics, hip hop is what I do
My neurons dance just like your ass in the clubs
I'm classic like El Chavo del Ocho, compared to you I'm God
Like Paquiao fighting against a one-armed man, damn

I write for fun or seriously, with rum or sober
I'm a son of a bitch in this rap shit!
Who hasn't seen me underestimates
Typical of those who think the more ass-faced, the more rhyme they have

But look, the tables have turned, girl, get it
Me in my chair, relaxed, sitting, crossing my knees
Plotting, while many are out there showing off
I'm making the bomb with which I plan to blow them up

I'm afraid that sometimes I get tired of being good
Like when you don't want to kiss, but to finish on the breasts
Something like that more or less, maybe a little more obscene
When it comes to a pencil and paper and a pen

Canserbero, you're fucking yourself, you sound daily
As if I paid payola to play in your neighborhood
You're stupid, don't you see that I'm watching the fruits grow?
If your career had a face, I swear I'd spit on it!

I already feel like a carnation in the swamp
For now, time will tell who's a brother
And if there isn't, I'll leave as I came into the world
Solitary, like a dog howling deep!

Tell your parents that you can't stop listening to me
And that you're hungry for hip hop, like a vampire for blood
Tell your children to stop analyzing me
Or they could end up with their brains turned upside down, by my mother

I'm not afraid to say what I want
I hardly fix the songs anymore, I like them to sound ugly
Distorted like when I see a motherfucker
Who I know envies me and thinks Tyrone sucks his thumb, calf

To another dog with that bone!
This sounds thick! So that even the prisoners enjoy it!
Leave that!, underestimating or is that why
Goliath was hit with stones where no one puts plaster

I swear to everything I wanted to make a chorus
But I assure you that... It's not necessary here
Abito told me: Son, don't add embellishments
I asked him why?, it's not necessary here

What else do you want, brother?
This is for hands up
I'm not asking for oil, just saying what's obvious
It has love and hate already, it's not necessary here

More volume could be
Those who hate me, take care
That sometimes I know how to hit
It's not necessary here

More volume could be
Those who hate me, take care
That sometimes I know how to hit
It's not necessary here