Doble Vida

Yeah, Dogma Crew, motherfuckers. Yeah, yeah, the demon; this is Block Massacre. Who said the demon wasn't rap, motherfuckers? Hey assholes, I'm more rap than all of you, idiots. This is my double life.

Two parallel paths, two extremes and a middle point. That's where I find myself in a double life where fear dies, and at the same time becomes my master. Love and lord, courage and valor, merging in the fire, cutting off without the forgiveness of she who seduces me and wraps me in her tempting cloak.
Nights surrendered at her feet, serving her like a bastard; shady business, get that money ready and bend it. Surely we'll end up in a suburb by morning. It's my tradition to carry a curse behind me to the cultured world, apocalyptic is my home. Without aberration, I spit on you, I'm not interested in your house and your stucco walls.

I don't give a damn about your opinion that I'm the least rapper in my group, say what you want, my life is rap, not wrapped in crack. With that track, you'll shit yourselves, and you'll wonder why you're perishing. There's not enough happiness in this world to hide the hatred that the demon carries inside his body, deep down.

I shit freely, I also shit on your dead. Resentment took hold of me years ago, when I was extorting a blind man. Few people have stood up for me at a crucial moment, senile dementia took hold of me today. Few know it. This song is specially built for heart patients. I love drugs, I love my crew, but I hate your zodiac sign. After a good massage, thousands of heads will roll. The prodigal son returns with me, the deceiver, whores, will kill you.

Double life, a nice guy invokes Mr. Haid, and the B side is for them to tremble. Double life, raw rap floats over AIDS. Poison in the saliva, the demon stones you. Double life, a nice guy invokes Mr. Haid, and the B side is for them to tremble. Double life, raw rap floats over AIDS. Poison in the saliva, the demon stones you.

Everything surrounding this demon is a bit allegorical, think about it differently, it's not symbolic. I've always been shitting on the shitty Catholic system, and in the end, my appearance always led to something catastrophic. You don't care if I preach or snort coke, or if I do stretches. Are you here for pills? I have few left, I'm still alert and like a guard, standing tall and not seeing you. Dogma's heavy rap makes you dizzy, my way of moving forward is fluid like a snake, and this apple, sweet dream, you won't sink your teeth into here.

The demon always brings something pleasant, better stay, lie on your back, bend your legs, I'll roll the dice. I'm a funereal pressure of imperceptible darkness, no kind of feeling beats, nor lives in my chest. Death wraps around me, giving luminosity to my image. Kneel before the terror, this double life can't be copied.

Double life, a nice guy invokes Mr. Haide, and the B side is for them to tremble. Double life, raw rap floats over AIDS. Poison in the saliva, the demon stones you. Double life, a nice guy invokes Mr. Haide, and the B side is for them to tremble. Double life, raw rap floats over AIDS. Poison in the saliva, the demon stones you.