Quien Les Dijo
C-Kan
Who Told Them
Auf!
2002, El Chicano, not the boss
I spent my salary to make two thousand three from one thousand
I escaped prison many times
El Pillo supplied me, El Bufón distributed
I got into recording amidst multiplication
I spent the profits producing another song
Macoy went to prison, El Pillo went to prison
Spider went to prison, and I was making another song
Blessed music (amen), because you were the only one
Who can judge every step of my career until today (only you)
Blessed music, for years you were the only one
To kill the hunger that bit me like a dog
What do you know, young one, about growing up young?
And loving the neighborhood more because family steals
It's another thing, if you see my world in pink
It's because your parents raised a butterfly
Leaving the neighborhood? Yes, that was always my mansion
But taking me out of the neighborhood? Never, it's tough
I grew up and changed my perspective, Spider already did time
Macoy got out of prison, Pillo got out of prison
And like when God chokes, only the bastard breathes
Today we are the same, just touring
You say I forget my roots?
No way, but if you're crap to be stepped on
Tell me who told them that now they can
Talk shit about me, what they want to say, who?
Who the hell said they can now?
What must hurt them? What do I make them feel, what?
Who gave them permission that now they can?
Speak as if they knew, as if they really knew me
And they think they can now
As if it affects me, as if their opinion matters to me
I was twelve, from the mixed eighth to the 98 (nine)
I popped my first .25 at 18
I went to war against a clan
Against a neighborhood, against a mocho
No one could beat the cholo who rolled in a Vocho
Uncle David died, I met my first beat
Three in an Infonavit, my first baisa of weed
From when Dicc, from when Gir
From when Birs also rapped
From when C-Klan filled up and didn't pay a peso
From when there was no money, no betrayals
From when Mastered Trax was just a shout in my songs
Mafia de la C came with those songs
The weapons, the dicks, the drugs
And all those deals
Do you really want to tell me criminal stories?
Ask my boys and you'll see they're real
How bad it would look for me to sing lies in my neighborhood
So, be careful what you throw at me
Tell me who told them that now they can
Talk shit about me, what they want to say, who?
Who the hell said they can now?
What must hurt them? What do I make them feel, what?
Who gave them permission that now they can?
Speak as if they knew, as if they really knew me
And they think they can now
As if it affects me, as if their opinion matters to me
