El Principio Es El Fin y El Fin Es El Principio

I’ve risen up from a couple of revolutions
And everything the devil steals from me, my God always brings it back
At a high level, this writing, no one can cross me
'Cause I only take out the pencil for a stroll, so it can do its thing
2023 and 2024, a couple of rebellions
Gun laws, also Law 54
Chained up, I saw my kids crying, my mom on her knees
And I’m firing employees, like I tossed the pills
They healed by throwing shade, racked up a few miles
Mentioning my name in dark times and nightmares
With no options, I had to turn the other cheek
And now, you bastards, look at me, it’s been ten years in the same chair
The blue Range Rover, six dead in the trunk
Six championships, six for six, like Jordan with the Bulls
Say what you want, as long as I exist, there’s only one beast
And it’s the untouchable, the undefeated
The animal, the end, Snow White, the big bucks
Not even artificial intelligence can reach me
They’ve tried to take me down, but dude, gather a hundred
'Cause 99 will fall, and then you’ll fall too (You [?])
Hey, yo, Siri, what was that P. Diddy said?
Anuel AA, with the AMIRI threads
And the Baby Johnsons, with the black kiss
Anuel sees Puff’s dad, comes in and says: Damn, that’s my father-in-law
Oh no, I’m gonna tell you what happened
Anuel was in the studio and Tri showed up with three
He said: Hand over the jewels and the watch, Anuel didn’t even think
And he was ready, even pulled out the 22
The dude was sleeping in Louis Vuitton, cuddled up with KAROL G
Now he sleeps on a futon, at RobGz’s mom’s house
The old lady’s about to kick him out, says he doesn’t pay rent
And that the big shot hasn’t made a dime since La Bichota left
And I’m coming straight at you, Vicente
Baby, put on a showstopper, so when I see you, I see your teeth
And I’m coming straight, dude, I know what you’re about
And 100x35, they’ll never do shit to me
There’s the C for Coscu, there’s the C for Caguas
There’s the one for bastard, where we see you, we’ll flip your ride
There’s the G from the graffiti they did on the tank
That shit, if it’s not jumped, there’s no way it’s coming off
It’s a body kit, disguising a '93 Explorer
Rocking Reebok classics and talking big with the Breds
The best in the world, the master of the masters, all the charters
My sticks have adapters, your tank’s got a Blaster motor

Haha
No face, no case
Who the fuck are these niggas, man
Y’all bitches know
I got the coldest high (yeah)
And I got fire in my soul (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Resi, I prayed for you, you pray for me too
'Cause I’ll take you out and all those in the top ten
If against me, tell me who, I have God as my guide
And I’ve been tearing up the game since 2008
The Undertaker, the one who turns off all the lights
And no one puts a word above where I put it
Don’t play with fire, you’re made of paper
To go against me, there’s a level
Send another one of yours and I’ll break you
My right hand, I’m Canelo in the eighth
What the hell are you bragging about, dude? If you don’t have cash
You’re bragging about a list, if the violinist stole all your cash
And you’re in the Bugatti like a tourist
They call me Blacanieves, the element
Ask René who the hell he left it inside
Ask René, if no one believes it anymore
That going against Coscu has a before and an after
They call me the storm and the torment, the experiment
A high percentage of violence inside my thoughts
Not thinking about the past, living in the now
'Cause we’re not the ones from before, we’re the ones from now on
2025, the movement starts, the gun under the seat
The gray cement Panamera
You’re left without a 27 flag, you’re left without a chain
Without raising the girl and without the 47s
Says, I see, I see, that you’re without backup
You’re all alone since I took my finger off you
Tell Luar to start mounting your verses
Sincerely, the owner of the tournament, Santa in the sleigh

Hohoho, haha
Merry Christmas
Bitchass niggas
From now and forever
It’s the Rottweilas
And El Princi
Baby, Mini King
Beatllio
Tell me, Santi
100x35 and we built this shit
Tell me, Torni
From the C to the V
We’re in salsa
Oh, and for the turncoats I have
Stay over there, in the little shit record label you have over there
They say they have iZaak and drop a 360 with Warner
A bunch of fakes, they’re all
Joseph, snitch
A bunch of idiots, bastards
You don’t compose shit
Stay over there, you
Stupid, lazy, stinky, this—
Haha