Por Amor Al Arte

[cres>
Compare pen to brush, ink drawn on paper,
Firmly based, shaft and capital,
On a lined canvas, micro perforated,
Inscriptions on stones of altarpiece or in tracery of coffered ceiling!
With more shapes than Pablo Ruiz, Braque, Gris or Leger,
Undoubtedly current art like rap is not what it used to be yesterday
But the essence is preserved.
Lacking means, creativity is the best remedy. Think!
I think things more than Rodin's bronze
Exile to some exotic place like Gauguin,
I seek inspiration in Soul Supreme or 9th Wonder
How many people create? How many trace? Imitate, copy, plagiarize
They are infected by something unique, I with a mic or with ink make magic
Authentic works come out of my palette,
And my head is still a work in progress
You are unnecessary because you are not satisfied with anything and without criteria you criticize us,
I feel desperation like Guernica.
The expressionist screams, the surrealist gets upset,
And the plastic if it spits from the attic this lyricist
From the pyramids of Egypt to the Roman sand circuses
From the ruins of Lucentum to the MoMA,
From the classic Michelangelo to Jackson Pollack,
From DJ Kool Herc to Kase O and those who join.

[nach>
Hyperrealism, between the lights and shadows of these depths,
Hard to define like the gesture of the Mona Lisa
Nocturnal inspiration and I bid farewell to Morpheus.
Lyrical insomnia, gardens in Babylon I create.
There are no meadows in my museum, only asphalt.
I paint mazes and move away from the hustle and bustle.
Does competition motivate you? I in my mausoleum
I prefer the fragile solitude of Giacometti. Today I rap
Without gray days stepping on me,
With more art than the Thyssen, elaborate do not improvise
Follow the discipline of the Lucentian school
And your work will touch the eternity of the Sistine Chapel
For now I elaborate structures like Kandinsky,
While I drink a whiskey to the health of Charles Bukowski.
And alone with the bass I relax,
I, rap did not bring popular culture, Andy Warhol did it
My poetry burns, tell Machado it burns
I will have left with texts stained with blood
Sweat and smiles, writing without haste
These crooked lines without being born in Pisa
From Mudejar to Bauhaus, from the Parthenon to the Louvre
Feel the existential of a Stoupe instrumental
And although they think they know us they listen and corrode,
Nach and Cres in this shit are the Coen brothers.

[chorus>
We do it for art, we do it for love
We are standards of this decision.
Creation, precision... I follow mine,
Canvases of everyday life, live inspiration guides us.

We do it for art, we do it for love,
We know we don't know how to do anything better.
Ah, the streets are galleries all day long,
We have our own craft workshop.

[cres>
My family is sacred, although quite modern indeed
But I usually finish everything I start,
Piece! Listen and learn, defend like Christians
In turrets of Romanesque castles...
And they last, endure like the horseshoe arch in the south
Or the pointed one in the Gothic in ecclesiastical monuments...
It's just a tour of the mind museum...
Of mine, only in part and I make you a guide.
No squeals; Chillida! There are no limits even if there are rumors
If I catch myself? I look for the light like sunflowers
Mix transitions in songs, good connections
With Nach, manufacturers of pieces like Tony Touch.
Don't touch. Please, do not touch
Or photograph for possible deterioration
That the flash of the cameras on the canvas may cause,
Or the canvas, or the interior of San Lorenzo.
We are as great as Cheops, Kefren and Mykerinos
And in moments of inspiration we do not sleep
I pamper every last detail, like Toulouse-Lautrec
With ballet dancers, no! Like Manet that impresses me more!
And we paint and sculpt
We build the indescribable based on what we feel
We are the mix of new art and Renaissance...
Of hip hop, admire the landscape with care.

[chorus>
We do it for art, we do it for love
We are standards of this decision.
Creation, precision... I follow mine,
Canvases of everyday life, live inspiration guides us.

We do it for art, we do it for love,
We know we don't know how to do anything better.
Ah, the streets are galleries all day long,
We have our own craft workshop.