L’infanzia Difficile Di Un Benestante

Ehm-ehm-ehm
Kudos to your mom, and a bit to the Winstrol
You’re really cute, a total bro
You’ll get mad watching this video
And in the end, you’ll just say like, bro (Like-Bro, like)

So like, does it make you like?
Dunno, you get it? Like, you know? I don’t know
Like you get it? So, like, you know? I don’t know
What was the question?

The prettiest crackhead in Italy
For three years, I’ve been your babysitter
You say you’re the end of the world
But the prediction’s wrong (Maya)

This year was supposed to be your year
I’ll hire you for my birthday
But I don’t know if the clown will find
In time the red nose he lost in the bathroom

You were texting my wife while hugging me
Guys like you, I call them scum
You write crap, but nice pecs
Racial slurs, then you’re on stage with Ghali?
(Beautiful Figo, fucking nigger, we’re coming to get you in Parma with all your fucking nigger friends, uh-uh-uh)

You annoy me even when you breathe
I’ll pocket you, bro, Napapijri
Grab the blade that says death to the scum
Smile and do harakiri
Tony, Tony, you’re messing with me
Mhm, what the hell are you expecting?

You’ve spent more time getting waxed
Than getting with Vittoria Ceretti
Tony, don’t run, tell me where you are
You wanna put your guys against mine?
If you’re a sniper, I’m Donald Trump
If I do it, you’re JFK
Wait a second, Fedez reloads
I gave you a boo-boo, I’ll put on the Arnica

You’re fake on the outside and rotten inside
Like your ceramic teeth
You’re doing coke, you’re not hungry
My appetite just came back
You’re too cool, you’re ripped
But when you talk, you’re Luca Giurato

I can picture you now, feeling a bit down
If you’re street, I’m high
Come by my place, I’ll give you a manicure
I got you flowers that smell like asphalt
With Chiara Biasi doing keta
You’re gossiping, getting your hair done

Did you tell her who was supporting you?
You were my bitch, not Taylor Mega
I come from the dirt, true story
You’re playing gangsta, Toy Story
20089 like Glory
Bro, you’re Hasbulla, not Vettori

Did you really mention the money in your bank?
I didn’t expect you to be Petrarch
Bro, I’ll buy you, put you in the gym
So you spend your life benching
You’re the one famous for a purse
I’m your dad, I’ll give you your allowance

A really intriguing street story
The tough childhood of a well-off kid
You played soccer with Damante
In the role of scum, not striker
I’m the king, you’re not even a pawn
(It must be frustrating)

A gang of personal trainers
You’re missing one in the lineup
He called friends to throw me a party
But then no one was outside my house

Deep down, you make me feel for you
You’re just a insecure kid
Red Bull gave you wings
Fedez gave you a Boem up your ass

Now, Tony, take your time
Eh, call your Italian teacher and have her explain the rhymes I made, okay?
No rush, my friend, bye