rialaif

Eh-yaoh
It's Can
From where you're from, son
Can, Can, Supa
Hear us
Can, Can, Supa

How much more truth do I have to rhyme for an animal to understand?
Your trinket means shit to me if you don't contribute anything
Can't stop with reins of rope to tie
The mouth only governs Can, no more no less

Never lie, never look back, just I got
Hip hop, ability that not even all the gold can buy
This is hardcore reality, I'm a lyrical narco
Look for respect in the dictionary and you'll see my portrait

Indisputable evil in an adorable smile
Your predictable rhymes all, it's better if you don't even speak
Your countless topics, none impress
I, on the other hand, speak one language so as not to leave the world in a coma

Straight from the zone with a scent of death
Although my heart is strong and I don't pity people, no
I sing what I've learned, not what I've suffered
For some son of a bitch to come and tell me I haven't lived

It's real life, from where you're from, son
I don't have to talk about a gun, bro
The serious underworld moves
With a thug's pace and if it kills, it doesn't threaten

It's real life (it's real life), from where you're from, son (uh-huh)
I don't have to talk about a gun, bro (yeah)
The serious underworld moves
With a thug's pace and if it kills, it doesn't threaten (yeah)

I live my real life and I don't need to sniff a line, I
I write in lines the story of Maracay, son
I'm tired of hearing your robbery stories
I get on stage and that's when the assault begins

I've traveled the asphalt and its charms
I fell in love with hip hop and translated it into song
Without a gun, ah, I only sing, my son
I'm from where you're from
Bet you don't run the way you flow

You only think about doing what a gangster does
Cuz a real gangster isn't thinking about singing, right?
Recognize that we have what you lack
Take advice, be still and step aside

It's real life, from where you're from, son
I don't have to talk about a gun, bro
The serious underworld moves
With a thug's pace and if it kills, it doesn't threaten

It's real life (it's real life), from where you're from, son (uh-huh)
I don't have to talk about a gun, bro (yeah)
The serious underworld moves
With a thug's pace and if it kills, it doesn't threaten (yeah)

Don't mix this track, nigga
I want it to sound underground
It's dedicated to the haters who talk and hide
Who are not satisfied with mentioning our names
They only feel like men when they're armed with a revolver

You are prostitutes, man, we're all classics
You can't evolve without going through the basics
Ironic, that demos and a lot of bullshit
Can silence many records that say nothing

It's real life, from where you're from, son
You know we gotta be the bomb, huh?
It's Can, Can, Supa
You don't really know who we are
You just suppose that
You suppose that