Somos De Calle (remix) (feat. Arcángel, De La Ghetto, Guelo Star, MC Ceja, Voltio, Ñejo, Chyno Nyno, Cosculluela y Baby Rasta)

(Let 'em know, pa')
Yes, I am from the street, what I am not is a gangster or a thug.
(Welcome to the remix!)
Don't be confused, neither pliers nor sucker
I am a singer, I show you in my song
(History, baby!)
I envy no one, that's why God gives me his blessing (hey)
I have money, smell it
Without needing to hit any bastard
I am Archangel (pra), magician in this stupidity
I disappear them without making an effort at all
So be still (okay)
If I catch you in my alley they are going to send you a blow
Be still (PR)
Archangel The Wonder, protagonist of your failure

You know that we are from the streets (Daddy), there is breeding and heart (making history)
Feel the fire (making history), the rules of the game, I set them
(You guys want more pressure, huh?)
(You know what time it is, G, you know what time it is, Daddy)
Because we are from the streets (De La Gezzy), there is breeding and heart (forces joined)
Feel the fire, the rules of the game, I set them (let 'em know, pa')

I'm not a hitman, but I pull when necessary
I don't want to be reckless, just a neighborhood talent
Don't make a mistake (no, no)
I also have a gun in my inventory

And in the newspaper, in the obituary section
From your group you will find several
To the cowards who instead of balls seem to have ovaries
As a child I lived on the streets every day
I changed the Glock for the microphone, now I kill on stage'

Babies, I developed and it wasn't my fault
In Villa España and La Perla josing every day
They killed my partner Ciquitrilla
Did you know? That that death could have been mine

He who breaks the rules, the rule is to break his face
Piglets that steal, sting their hands with bullets
To see his face letting out lying tears
You need insecticide

Mosquitoes that carry dengue and mouthing plague
Respect is not recovered at campfire time
My street is street and my city is worse, I come from Ponce
My street is native, up Boricuaronce

I'm from the street, hell yeah, I'm from the block
Where niggas got big guns that pop and get your ass dropped
Where you learn to joke and make money
Also where you learn that the smart one lives by the most sincere

Yeah, but we don't talk to the cops
It doesn't matter if they want to give me time in the federal
Yeah, no doubt, I'm a neighborhood talent
And on the block I stay daily, nigga

You know that we are from the streets (Daddy, PR), there is breeding and heart
Feel the fire, I set the rules of the game
(The people's favorites) (We are the ones who command the tar)
Because we are from street there are brood and hearth
Feel the fire, I set the rules of the game
(Hey yo, Voltage, let 'em know)

That's why, like Yankee, I am mute, blind and deaf
And I keep quiet even if there is a mutiny on board
In my car, the ditches are covered with an awning
Many are escrachan' guilla'os of fat pejes'

The neighborhoods, the hamlets, everything is the same (of course)
There is always a chota, a thousand abnormals
The point, the rifles, enemies, the feds
When there are problems, hmm, no one comes out

For money, women give ass
The bug, the gangster, the pimp, the world is yours
The stupid thing is that everyone thinks like you and me
Everyone wants to find their own

That's where the murmurs begin
Fighting for strapping, for kids, for drugs
And they say it's because of pride
They stab you in the head, they kill you on your back
This is a jungle, no one saves you here

(Come on! Chyno Ny', yo')
Many aspire to lead this type of life
Here the options do not vary and poverty forces me
We do not tolerate hysteria
If you are a chota, in your mouth, if you are a eater, in your belly

Many say they are lines, but they turn around
They say they are a street and they still haven't seen the avenue
Calm the jaw, talkative
That you don't have a heart even on Valentine's Day

You know that we are from the streets, there is breeding and heart
Feel the fire, the rules of the game, I set them
Because we are from street there are brood and hearth
(Ok, you want more tension, then?) (Hey yo, Coscu, come on, man)
Feel the fire (I got your back, man), I set the rules of the game
(Let 'em know)

I'm already tired of listening to feca bug stories
From when kilos and butter devices dropped
In the suitcases, the wired microphone inside the hoodie
And the guy shot in the middle, even to the tecatos in El Churry

Crazy, these people think they give power and have breeding
15 get together to attack a bakery
Rifle and batteries, and they go without the dyes in the Kia
Because of those insect shops they leave them lying around during the day

It's just that in the neighborhood everyone knows how the smoke blows
There are many underground for doing nonsense
You get your number or they'll break your oar
This is PR, you know how we do it (point 40)

The one who opens his mouth putting a name on your record
And I've even seen you going out to the grocery store with a vest
I know you tremble when Los Lobos plays in the neighborhood
You hit twelve, but how many did you look in the eyes?

Hey, Eme, these people are trilli, they make me laugh
They look for life with necklaces, but they will be ashes
Either they line up, or they will be ghosts in the breeze
Temperature devastates and Yankee covers them like shreds

You know that we are from the streets, there is breeding and heart
(Daddy Yankee is not a singer, Daddy Yankee is a movement)
Feel the fire, I set the rules of the game (ladies and gentlemen)
Because we are from street there are brood and hearth
(The boss is thanked for his support) (Closing with a flourish)
Feel the fire, the rules of the game, I set them (breaking the rules)

Hey, kid, if the guns are not on a diet
They eat alive anyone who climbs their chops (gangstersito)
You spread fear with your madness
But they don't respect you, daddy, like the tall fucker (gangstersito)
You crossed the limit, a toad cannot piss in the land of princes
If you were a participant in the war
You put a lot of stress on your index finger
Now for your head there's an auction
They are offering cash, kilos and Baby Rasta notebooks
Hot to the chest like Aged Rum
Either you die like a brave man, or you live like an idiot.
And as it is, any neighbor's child
It makes you lunch very easy like pepper with Chinese rice
Your eyebrows fly, you live the movie like Guelo
With Arcángel I saved you from the fire, De La Ghetto

Prra
Daddy
Diesel
Incredible
We dictate the street rules
From the 80's to infinity, Puerto Rico
The creators of the urban movement
Neighborhood talent
Once again, The Boss